GIFT  OF 


SIMBA 


By 
STEWART  EDWARD  WHITE 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
1919 


Copyright,  1918,  by 
DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 


COPYRIGHT,  1917,  BY  THB  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPAB? 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  NAMING *^3 

II.  WHITE  MAGIC    .      .     .     .     .     .  41 

III.  TRELAWNEY  LEARNS     ....  83 

IV.  TRUE  SPORTSMEN 119 

V.  FORCED  LABOUR      .     .     .     .     .  143 

VI.  THE  GUNBEARER     .     .     .     .     .  179 

VII.  MUTUAL  RESPECT 210 

VIII.  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  RIPPLE  .      .      .  254 

IX.  Cow  IVORY 283 


SIMBA 


SIMBA 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  NAMING 

WHEN  his  first-born  son  was  big  enough 
to  toddle  about  on  his  own  two  legs, 
M'Kuni  sent  him  out  with  the  boys  and 
old  men  to  herd  the  cattle.  As  yet  the  son  had  only  a 
variety  of  child-names — endearing  little  names  such 
as  indicated  the  real  affection  in  which  he  was  held. 
Of  course  he  must  choose  his  own  man's  name; 
but  as  yet  he  had  shown  no  disposition  to  do  so. 

M'Kuni  was  a  man  of  considerable  importance. 
He  owned  a  round  house  with  a  conical  thatched 
roof;  two  spears,  one  for  war  with  a  long  slender 
blade,  and  one  for  the  chase  shaped  like  a  leaf; 
four  wives,  of  whom  one  young;  three  wicker  doors; 
a  shield  of  genuine  buffalo  hide;  considerable  wire 
and  bead  jewellery;  sufficient  clothing  of  goat  skin 


4  '"''SIMBA 

to  satisfy  his  sketchy  ideas  on  the  subject,  and 
nearly  five  hundred  head  of  cattle.  He  led  a 
thoroughly  satisfactory  life.  The  immemorial  tra 
ditions  of  his  people  were  well  known  to  him,  so 
he  made  few  mistakes  of  action  and  therefore  had 
very  little  bad  luck.  When  he  had  crossed  a 
stream  he  always  spat  on  a  pebble  and  threw  it 
back  into  the  current;  when  birds  crossed  him 
from  right  to  left  he  never  omitted  to  count  them 
and  conduct  his  day  by  their  omen;  not  once  did 
he  fail  to  avert  his  face  when  meeting  the  mother 
of  any  of  his  wives.  And  so  with  a  thousand  other 
little  things.  M'Kuni  was  an  alert-minded  savage. 
He  never  forgot  or  overlooked.  It  is  well  known 
that  the  gods  have  no  concern  with  mental  atti 
tudes.  Ignorance  or  forgetfulness  are  no  excuses. 
They  want  results. 

,  All  night  M'Kuni  and  his  four  wives  and  his 
various  children  slept  quite  comfortably  in  the 
circular  hut  while  the  five  hundred  cattle  stamped 
and  lowed  and  splashed  about  inside  the  tiny 
corral  that  enclosed  both  them  and  the  house;  and 
other  cattle  belonging  to  other  houses  next  door 
on  either  side  did  the  same.  A  heavy  thorn  wall 


THE    NAMING  3 

surrounded  the  collection  of  houses  and  corrals 
and  so  made  the  village. 

Soon  after  dawn  the  women  and  older  children 
stirred.  The  gates  were  opened.  Out  from  the 
thorn  boma  thronged  the  masses  of  cattle.  They 
stretched  their  necks  and  lowed,  and  the  heavy 
vibrating  diapason  overcame  even  the  roar  of  the 
lions  returning  full-fed  to  their  lairs.  From  a  rise 
near  by  they  would  have  looked  like  a  spreading 
dark  sluggish  flow.  They  were  small,  plump,  gentle 
cattle  with  humps  of  fat  above  their  shoulders. 
Then:  herders  drove  them  to  the  pastures  ap 
pointed,  and  there  all  day  they  fed  in  compact 
bodies,  shimmering  in  the  hot  heat  mirage  like 
varicoloured  patches  against  the  low  hills. 

When  he  felt  so  inclined  M'Kuni  came  into  the 
open  air.  He  always  had  plenty  to  do.  He  could 
go  out  to  count  his  cattle  and  keep  acquainted 
with  every  individual  of  them;  he  could  visit 
his  cronies  in  the  village;  he  could  squat  outside 
the  council  of  the  elders  listening  to  tales  and  wise 
talk;  he  could  oversee  the  primitive  agricultural 
work  performed  by  his  wives;  he  could  polish  with 
wood  ashes  and  herb  juice  the  metal  of  his  or- 


6  SIMBA 

naments  and  weapons;  he  could  join  a  hunting 
party  on  the  veldt;  he  could  sit  in  his  own  door- 
yard  and  play  with  his  own  children  of  whom 
there  was  always  abundance.  M'Kuni,  like  the 
majority  of  his  people,  was  very  fond  of  children 
so  the  last-named  occupation  appealed  to  him 
most  of  all. 

In  his  first  born  M'Kuni  took  a  never-ebbing 
delight.  Never  had  been  such  a  boy,  so  straight, 
so  confident,  so  bold!  None  of  the  others  could 
compare  with  this  one!  Although  the  word 
toto  was  a  general  one  meaning  children,  it  was 
always  understood  that  when  M'Kuni  said  toto 
he  meant  this  boy.  And  so  gradually  he  became 
known  as  Toto  pending  the  choosing  of  his  man- 
name. 

Toto  ran  stark  naked  save  for  a  polished  brass 
amulet,  and  shave-headed  save  for  a  trig  tuft  at 
his  crown.  And  the  day  he  went  forth  with  the 
cows  he  carried  a  tiny  spear. 

II 

IT  WAS  a  wonderful  life.  The  small,  naked,  lively 
little  figures  darted  here  and  there  shouting  in 


THE    NAMING  7 

childish  treble.  The  huge,  placid  beasts  obeyed. 
And  then  the  sun-saturated  day  on  the  high  veldt, 
with  a  wind  blowing,  and  clouds  like  ships  sailing 
to  the  edge  of  the  world  and  over,  and  the  great 
herds  of  game  feeding  in  the  hollows,  and  birds 
wheeling  with  cries.  Toto  and  his  companions 
stood  upon  rocks,  and  watched  lest  calves  stray 
within  reach  of  hyenas,  and  ran  about  with  their 
shrill  cries  whenever  the  herd  threatened  to  lose 
its  compactness.  For  in  concentration  alone  was 
safety.  And  between  times  they  shrieked  at  each 
other,  or  played  games  of  war  or  hunting. 

It  may  be  believed  that  for  a  very  little  boy  there 
were  many  terrors  stalking  among  the  strange 
nesses  of  the  veldt.  Things  glided  half-seen  in 
the  grass;  they  lurked  in  shadow;  they  rustled 
in  thickets;  they  peered  from  the  dimness  of  trees. 
Africa  real  is  a  realm  of  enchantment  and  dangers; 
and  to  Africa  real  must  be  added  the  Africa  fan 
tastic  of  the  small-boy  imagination  supplemented 
by  the  overheard  fireside  tales  of  elder  small 
boys  with  awestruck,  shining  eyes.  Sleeping  lions, 
leopards,  rhinoceros,  buffalo;  lurking  hyenas,  ba 
boons;  hidden  snakes  and  crocodiles  and  other 


8  SIMBA 

matters  of  like  significance  were  serious  enough 
hazards,  heaven  knows.  But  when  one  thinks 
of  the  Great  Gray  Hyena  whose  footfall  makes  no 
sound  and  whose  attack  is  always  from  the  rear; 
or  of  the  little  black  man  who  dwells  in  rocks  and 
fastens  his  teeth  in  throats;  or  of  the  invisible 
Thing  whose  sole  manifestation  is  its  shrieking 
voice  and  its  biting  claws — or  indeed  a  dozen  of 
the  equally  sociable  creatures — why,  then  one  can 
not  be  blamed  for  looking  upon  the  great,  quiet, 
humpbacked  cattle  as  familiar  friends.  Espe 
cially  since  the  world  around  is  very  large  and  one's 
self  is  very  small.  And  a  wild-eyed,  dashing, 
breathless  foray  to  yonder  point  of  rocks  and  back 
may  require  the  resolution  of  a  Great  Adventure. 
The  only  comfort  was  that  most  of  these  things, 
from  lions  on,  were  deadliest  at  night.  But  one 
can  never  be  sure! 

Toto's  most  intimate  friend  was  a  youngster 
slightly  older  than  himself  named  Maongo.  This 
youth  was  a  very  wonderful  being  because  he 
happened  to  be  two  years  older  and  to  possess  a 
nature  whose  stupidity  manifested  itself  in  aloof 
ness.  Therefore  Toto  did  his  best  to  show  off 


THE    NAMING  9 

before  Maongo,  dashing  a  little  farther  out  than 
any  one  else,  displaying  unusual  zeal  in  his  simple 
duties,  talking  with  a  swagger,  acting  in  imitation 
of  the  best  models  among  his  elders;  and  always 
with  a  concealed  side  glance  to  discover  how  the 
older  boy  was  taking  it.  The  older  boy  was,  in 
general,  taking  it  very  well.  That  is  to  say,  he  was 
so  fully  occupied  with  his  own  inmost  being  that 
he  paid  no  great  attention  to  his  small  adorer. 
Once  he  aroused  himself  to  clip  Toto  savagely 
over  the  head.  Thereupon  Toto  adored  him  more 
than  ever,  a  fact  that  has  little  to  do  with  this  part 
of  our  story,  but  should  be  filed  for  future  ref 
erence. 

Besides  tending  cattle  there  were  other  ac 
tivities  such  as  tagging  along  behind  his  mother  to 
the  broad,  sluggish,  muddy  river  and  there  watch 
ing  her  wash  beans,  or  he  might  go  with  her  into 
the  still,  vine-entangled,  mysterious  forest.  There 
she  hacked  at  huge  trees  with  a  ridiculous,  short- 
handled  axe  whose  blade  was  not  more  than  two 
inches  wide,  shrieking  at  her  neighbours,  consumed 
with  giggles  and  jokes.  It  seemed  to  Toto  that  she 
had  been  chipping  at  the  same  tree  for  an  incred- 


io  SIMBA 

ible  series  of  days,  which  was  true;  and  he  foresaw 
no  result.  The  idea  never  occurred  to  him  that  the 
labour  had  any  ulterior  end  beyond  the  mere  fun 
of  it.  That  was  considerable.  The  axe  made  a 
most  satisfying  slamming  noise  against  the  silence 
of  the  forest;  every  once  in  a  while  a  white  chip 
fell  away.  The  shadows  were  cool  there,  after 
the  sun  outside,  and  the  monkey-people  carried 
on  most  amusing  business  in  the  upper  world. 
And  one  wonderful  day  there  materialized  in  the 
background  a  great  shadowy  mass,  without  sound, 
quietly,  as  though  in  the  depths  of  the  other 
shadows  this  one  great,  dark  one  had  thickened 
like  a  cloud.  And  one  by  one  other  masses 
materialized  until  there  were  six  of  them.  Toto 
stared  with  all  his  eyes.  He  caught  the  gleam  of 
yellow- white,  the  slow  sway  and  swing  of  moving 
things.  And  then  suddenly  he  saw  eyes,  little 
wicked  eyes,  staring  at  him. 

His  mother  and  the  other  women  had  fallen 
silent.  They  picked  up  their  little  axes,  and  the 
goat-skin  shawls  they  had  cast  aside,  and  quietly 
and  unhastingly  withdrew,  step  by  step,  cere 
monially,  without  turning  their  backs.  And  the 


THE    NAMING  n 

great,  strange  things  stood  swaying  until  the 
women  had  departed,  then  came  forward  into  the 
clearing,  as  though  taking  possession  of  a  right. 

"What  was  it?"  Toto  asked  his  mother. 

"They  were  my  Lords,  the  Elephants,  who 
wished  to  use  their  own,"  she  replied. 

And  when  he  was  old  enough  he  even  accom 
panied  his  father  and  some  of  the  older  men  on 
short  hunts  near  at  hand.  This  was  vastly 
exciting;  but,  it  must  be  confessed,  not  too  often 
productive.  Across  certain  well-known  narrow 
gaps  in  the  hills  sticks  were  bound  together 
tripod- wise.  Beneath  each  tripod  squatted  a 
hunter  armed  with  bow  and  spear.  He  was  in 
plain  sight  but  he  sat  still  as  an  image,  and  the 
beasts  when  driven  did  not  appear  to  notice  him. 
Possibly  the  tripod  of  sticks  effectively  blurred  the 
outline.  Others,  the  youngest  and  most  active, 
tried  to  herd  the  game  past  the  blinds.  The 
animals  were  wild  from  much  driving,  and  only 
rarely  did  they  pass  near  enough  to  receive  one 
of  the  deadly  little  poisoned  arrows.  But  when  a 
kongoni  or  a  zebra  or  even,  happy  day,  a  wilde- 
beeste  was  downed,  what  a  celebration! 


12  SIMBA 

No  matter  what  the  occupation  of  the  day,  the 
setting  sun  witnessed  veldt  and  forest  vacated  by 
all  its  human  inhabitants  and  their  possessions. 
Man's  dominion  in  Africa  ends  with  the  day 
light;  and  the  lion,  the  lord  of  the  darker  hours, 
comes  into  his  own.  Little  Toto  used  to  creep  to 
the  gate  of  the  boma  and  listen.  First  there  were 
the  deep  coughing  grunts,  here,  there,  near,  far, 
as  the  beasts  greeted  one  another  across  the  spaces. 
Then  some  mighty  old  male,  hungry  but  scorn 
fully  careless,  would  roar.  The  deep,  vibrating 
tones  filled  all  the  cup  of  heaven.  And  when  the 
last  rumbling  had  died  silence  held  the  world. 
No  zebra  barked,  no  buck  snorted,  no  hyena 
laughed,  no  bird  cried.  All  the  veldt  seemed  to 
be  holding  its  mighty  breath,  awaiting  the  pleasure 
of  its  lord.  And  little  Toto,  trembling,  crept  back 
to  the  hut. 

Ill 

WHEN  Toto  had  reached  the  age  of  ten,  and  had 
added  a  necklet  of  leather  sewn  with  blue  and 
white  beads  to  his  other  possessions,  an  excite 
ment  reached  the  camp.  Over  the  blue  hills 


THE    NAMING  13 

to  the  west  a  white  man  was  approaching!  News 
of  him  came  to  the  village  mysteriously  between 
sun-down  and  sun-up,  a  time  when  no  human  is 
abroad.  Neither  did  any  stranger  arrive.  Yet 
before  the  gates  were  thrown  open  for  the  cattle 
all  knew  of  this  white  man,  and  what  he  looked 
like,  and  with  how  many  men  he  travelled.  How 
the  news  arrived  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of  Africa. 
The  village  was  a-hum  with  it;  and  To  to  and  his 
companions  lingered  and  procrastinated  and  de 
layed  in  order  to  hear  more  until  old  Shimbo, 
the  witch-doctor,  laid  to  them  with  his  staff. 
There  were  no  games  that  day.  The  boys  squat 
ted  in  a  compact  little  group  and  talked. 

They  had  all  heard  of  white  men,  but  none  of 
them  had  ever  seen  one.  This  was  in  the  days 
when  white  men  were  very  few.  The  boys  were 
secretly  a  little  afraid;  outwardly,  of  course, 
very  boastful.  They  all  bragged  of  what  they 
would  do  were  they  elders  and  were  a  white  man 
to  enter  their  country;  and  they  dismissed  with 
airy  nonchalance  the  stories  of  the  white  man's 
wonders — the  striking  of  fire,  the  gun,  the  tents  and 
chairs  and  everyday  miracles  that,  garbled  and 


i4  SIMBA 

distorted  in  transmission  through  many  tongues, 
reached  this  hilltop  in  strange  and  awesome 
guises.  The  more  they  chattered,  the  more  ex 
cited  they  became.  Only  Maongo  maintained  his 
imperturbable,  calm  silence.  And  Toto,  being  by 
nature  excitable,  looked  up  to  him  the  more  on 
that  account,  and  admired  his  coolness  and 
courage. 

The  cattle  were  driven  from  the  hills  earlier 
than  usual  that  evening.  Nobody  objected,  for 
the  people  were  in  a  tumult.  This  little  village, 
it  must  be  explained,  lay  near  the  edge  of  the 
higher  hills  to  the  eastward.  From  that  direction 
came  neither  travel  nor  war.  It  was  a  backwater. 
Now,  suddenly,  it  was  called  upon  to  take  its  part 
in  the  world's  affairs. 

Old  Shimbo,  the  witch-doctor,  was  very  busy 
and  very  mysterious.  He  had  on  his  headdress 
and  mask  with  the  wildebeeste  horns;  and  the 
feathered  armlets  and  anklets;  and  the  string  of 
bells  that  reached  from  his  waist  to  his  knees; 
and  he  had  painted  in  white  on  his  naked  body  a 
picture  of  his  skeleton,  death  size,  and  was  al 
together  an  awful  and  inspiring  object.  Before 


THE    NAMING  15 

a  little  queer-smelling  fire  he  was  laying  out  certain 
sacred  but  undetermined  objects  and  substances, 
muttering  darkly  to  himself.  From  the  forest 
came  long  files  of  women,  bent  double,  carrying  on 
their  backs  by  means  of  straps  passing  across  the 
tops  of  their  heads,  great  loads  of  firewood.  This 
they  deposited  in  the  centre  of  the  village.  And 
before  all  the  huts  the  girls  and  younger  women 
were  sorting  and  polishing  various  articles  of 
clothing,  jewellery,  bead  work,  and  other  ornament. 
A  row  of  drums,  big  as  barrels,  stood  the  other 
side  of  the  growing  pile  of  fuel. 

Toto  and  his  companions  hastily  impounded  the 
cattle  and  raced  to  the  big  tree  beneath  which 
squatted  every  able-bodied  man  left  in  the 
village.  His  father  was  not  there;  and  soon  Toto 
learned  that  he,  with  others,  had  taken  his  spear, 
a  section  of  sugar  cane,  and  a  gourdful  of  mixed 
blood  and  milk,  and  had  gone  forth  to  hover  on  the 
flanks  of  the  white  man's  safari.  From  the  con 
versation  of  those  who  remained  he  learned  a 
number  of  things:  that  the  white  man  was  a  very 
formidable  and  fearsome  creature;  that  the  war 
riors  of  the  village  would  do  their  duty  at  all  costs. 


16  SIMBA 

An  impartial  person  would  have  detected  more 
than  a  slight  nervousness  beneath  this  loudly 
expressed  determination;  and  if  he  were  partic 
ularly  intelligent  he  would  have  foreboded  trouble 
were  that  nervousness  allowed  to  explode  into 
action!  There  is  danger  in  any  situation  that 
no  one  quite  knows  how  to  handle. 

For  the  duty  of  this  village  was  very  simple. 
It  was  the  law  that  through  the  lands  of  these 
people  no  man  could  pass  without  permission 
from  the  paramount  chief,  Leyeye.  This  per 
mission  was  to  be  obtained  by  the  payment  of  a 
tribute  called  the  honga.  A  high  official  of 
Leyeye's  court  met  all  strangers  at  the  frontier. 
He  planted  his  long  spear  upright  in  the  ground. 
The  traveller  then  threw  over  it  coils  of  copper  or 
iron  wire.  His  treatment  depended  on  how  far 
up  the  spear  the  coils  of  wire  extended.  Very 
wealthy  travellers  had  even  been  known  to  bury 
the  spear  completely.  They  were  then  permitted 
to  go  where  they  wished  and  to  spend  as  long  a  time 
as  they  pleased.  But  such  munificence  was  rare 
and  not  to  be  expected.  And  now  for  the  first 
time  this  little  village  happened  to  be  on  tb* 


THE    NAMING  17 

frontier.  Its  men  must  stop  this  white  man  and 
hold  him  until  Leyeye's  envoys  arrived.  They 
had  never  had  any  experience;  and  they  had  no 
idea  how  it  was  to  be  done.  Suppose  the  white 
man  refused  to  stop? 

At  dusk  the  fire  was  lighted.  The  drums  began 
to  roar.  Shimbo,  looking  like  a  terrible  devil  with 
horns,  capered  around  and  around  the  blaze, 
throwing  various  queer-smelling,  quick-burning 
substances  on  the  flames.  The  women  wailed 
shrill  chants  that  swelled  and  died  down  and 
swelled  again,  following  the  throbbing  of  the 
drums.  The  men  dressed  in  their  utmost  mag 
nificence,  looking  fiercely  imposing  under  their 
black  ostrich  plumes,  shook  their  weapons  and 
swayed  in  unison. 

All  that  night  the  n'goma  lasted.  It  increased 
its  intensity;  it  became  toward  the  close  an  orgy 
of  movement,  of  rhythmic  emotion  that  at  times 
suddenly  broke  in  shrieking,  foaming  hysteria. 
And  old  Shimbo  cast  his  spells,  and  at  the  dawn 
they  all  crept  to  their  huts  completely  exhausted. 
But  in  some  way  it  was  felt  that  considerable 
had  been  done  about  it. 


i8  SIMBA 

That  very  day  the  white  man  arrived.  He 
marched  over  the  hills  at  the  head  of  some  thirty 
men;  proceeded  in  a  business-like  fashion  to  the 
bottom  land  near  the  stream;  looked  about  for  a 
few  moments,  and  then,  standing  upright  in  the 
centre,  began  to  give  orders.  In  his  hand  he  held 
a  slender  whip  of  rhinoceros  hide  with  which  he 
pointed,  now  here,  now  there.  And  at  his  bid 
ding  his  men  scampered  about  doing  things  in  a 
marvellous  and  unheard-of  manner. 

Toto  and  his  adored  Maongo  and  all  the  other 
boys  of  their  age  were  standing  about  watching, 
you  may  be  sure.  For  what  purpose  were  the 
younger  boys  created  save  to  take  over  the  job 
when  their  elders  wished  to  view  wonders?  A 
disconsolate  band  of  the  smaller  fry — some  with 
fresh  bruises  on  their  top-knots — watched  the 
cattle. 

Nothing  escaped  the  keen  eyes  of  the  older 
boys.  The  white  man  was  satisfactorily  big,  and 
wore  a  bushy  black  beard  which  among  people 
comparatively  beardless  was  distinction  enough. 
But  it  must  be  remembered  that  even  the  smallest, 
pettiest,  most  trivial  detail — buttons  and  button- 


THE    NAMING  19 

holes,  belt  buckles,  the  cut  of  clothes,  the  hat, 
hob-nails,  a  half  hundred  such  trifles — were  not 
only  brand  new  and  strange,  but  the  use  and  mean 
ing  of  them  must  often  be  guessed  at.  Toto 
and  his  friends  stood  like  little  straight  bronze 
statues;  their  elders  squatted  about  at  a  little 
distance,  motionless;  but  a  hundred  pair  of  eyes 
brimmed  with  quick  curiosity  and  observation. 

Things  moved  in  that  camp  with  incredible 
swiftness.  A  double  tent  went  up,  chop-boxes 
were  piled  to  make  a  sort  of  table,  a  tin  box  was 
deposited  and  unlocked,  a  light  folding  chair  was 
placed.  The  white  man  sat  down  in  this  and 
filled  a  pipe.  Then  occurred  the  first  miracle. 
The  white  man  produced  a  tiny  sliver  of  wood  no 
bigger  than  a  twig.  He  touched  it  carelessly  to 
the  underside  of  the  thing  in  which  he  sat,  and 
instantly  it  burst  into  flame! 

This  was  too  much.  The  carefully  preserved 
equilibrium  tottered.  A  simultaneous  cry  of 
amazement  broke  from  all  in  sight. 

With  this  definite  transcending  of  the  laws  of 
nature  the  white  man  entered  once  and  for  all  the 
ranks  of  a  different  species  possessed  of  extra- 


20  SIMBA 

human  powers.  Anything  in  the  miracle  line 
he  might  in  the  future  perform  would  perhaps 
terrify,  and  certainly  interest,  but  would  not 
astonish.  Why  should  it?  When  a  man  proves 
himself  superior  to  one  immutable  natural  law, 
what  is  to  prevent  his  being  superior  also  to  the 
others?  If  he  can  make  fire  with  a  twig — which 
is  of  course  impossible — why  should  he  not  fly 
or  talk  over  a  wire  or  jump  over  the  moon  or  do 
any  other  thing  that  may  please  his  fancy? 

This  white  man  was  not  a  reassuring  individual. 
He  never  so  much  as  glanced  toward  any  of  his 
numerous  audience.  His  own  affairs  he  carried 
on  briefly  with  a  small,  lively,  black  man  whose 
face  was  wrinkled.  After  a  few  minutes  this  little 
man,  whom  Toto  heard  named  as  Cazi  Moto, 
brought  food  and  served  it,  which  was  another 
most  absorbing  thing  to  watch.  Toto's  imagi 
nation  cooled  in  contemplation  of  what  he  would 
do  toward  detaining  this  awesome  individual 
should  the  latter  not  care  to  be  detained.  Realiz 
ing  to  the  full  his  hopeless  inferiority  in  such  mat 
ters  as  diplomatic  negotiation  and  miracles,  he 
could  think  of  nothing  save  to  get  together  as 


THE    NAMING  21 

big  a  crowd  as  possible,  and  all  together  to  rush  in 
and  kill.  Which  was  precisely  the  reasoning  that 
was  passing  through  the  minds  of,  his  elders. 

By  now  the  more  important  of  the  latter  were 
beginning  officially  to  appear.  For  a  time  they 
had  squatted  with  the  common  herd,  satisfying 
their  curiosity,  but  soon  they  had  retired  to  the 
village  in  search  of  grandeur.  They  came  by 
twos  and  little  groups,  and  they  were  very  won 
derful  to  look  upon,  what  with  the  encircling 
ostrich  plumes  and  their  polished  wire  and  bead 
jewellery,  and  their  long  bright  spears,  and  their 
lozenge-shaped  painted  hide  shields.  Silently 
they  gathered  closer  and  closer  until  they  stood  in 
an  unbroken  semicircle  ten  feet  distant.  The 
white  man  seemed  unaware  of  their  existence, 
and  continued  to  cut  his  food.  The  warriors 
shifted  from  one  foot  to  another,  a  good  deal,  it 
must  be  confessed,  like  waiting  schoolboys. 
Finally  young  Sabuk,  the  biggest  dandy  and  the 
most  self  assured,  grinned  and  ventured  a  bashful 
greeting: 

"Jambo,  bwana" 

The  white  man  leisurely  lifted  a  hard,  aggressive 


22  SIMBA 

stare  to  Sabuk 's  face.    After  several  tense  and — 
to  Sabuk — agonizing  seconds,  he  called: 

"Cazi  Moto!" 

The  little  black  man  hurried  up.  The  white 
man  pointed  to  Sabuk  with  his  whip. 

"Is  this  the  n'ympara?"*  he  asked  in  Swahili. 

A  chorus  answered  him  in  the  negative.  The 
traveller,  paying  no  attention  to  these  volunteer 
replies,  waited  for  Cazi  Moto. 

"Tell  this  man  who  has  spoken  that  I  wish  to 
see  the  n'ympara  immediately,"  he  commanded, 
and  at  once  became  totally  oblivious  of  all  human 
insects.  After  a  few  moments  he  entered  his 
tent  and  the  flaps  fell  behind  him. 

The  boys — and  their  elders — remained  staring 
after  him.  Here,  thought  To  to,  was  a  great  lord. 

After  a  few  moments  they  trailed  away  to  where 
Cazi  Moto  squatted  before  a  tiny  fire.  Here  was 
no  aloofness  and  no  apparent  reticence.  In  five 
minutes  they  were  all  jabbering  and  chattering 
and  shrieking  native  fashion. 


*  The  form  of  this  question  in  itself  indicated  the  traveller's  knowledge  of  his  sub 
ject.  N'ympara  means  headman.  If  the  white  man  had  desired  to  convey  a  compli 
ment  or  sense  of  importance,  he  would  have  inquired  for  the  Sultani,  which  means 
king. 


THE    NAMING  23 

The  white  man,  Cazi  Moto  informed  them, 
was  the  greatest  white  man  in  the  world.  He  was 
the  son,  or  at  least  near  relative,  of  the  King  of 
the  Inglishi  and  of  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars.  He 
was  so  strong  that  with  one  hand  he  could  lift  a 
buffalo  from  the  ground,  and  was  so  great  a  lord 
that  never  in  any  circumstances  did  he  have  to  use 
his  strength.  With  sublime  disregard  for  the  small- 
ness  of  his  retinue  and  the  comparative  poverty 
of  his  equipment,  Cazi  Moto  went  on  to  describe 
his  immense  wealth  "as  the  leaves  of  the  grass!" 
He  fought  the  elephant  for  its  ivory  and  his  path 
was  marked  with  bones  of  lions.  With  Cazi 
Moto's  efficient  aid  he  had  come  a  long  journey, 
very  long,  from  another  country  where  was 
water  to  the  edge  of  the  world  and  no  land  to 
be  seen,  like  the  water  of  Naivasha,  but  no  farther 
shore. 

"And  why/7  asked  one  of  his  listeners  politely, 
"does  not  the  water  spill  over  the  edge  and  run 
away,  as  it  is  the  custom  of  water  to  do?" 

"That  is  part  of  the  white  man's  magic,"  said 
Cazi  Moto  boldly,  and  went  on  in  conclusion  to 
say  that  his  master  was  named  Kingozi,  that  is  to 


24  SIMBA 

say  the  Bearded  One,  and  that  never,  in  any  cir 
cumstances,  did  he  miss  a  shot  with  his  gun. 

"We  have  never  seen  a  gun,"  said  the  native 
spokesman  respectfully.  "  Is  it  true  that  it  makes 
a  noise  like  the  thunder,  and  kills  at  a  distance  like 
the  lightning?" 

"Make  my  Lord  angry,  and  you  shall  see!" 
replied  Cazi  Moto  darkly. 

At  this  moment  old  Shimbo,  having  cast  aside 
his  r61e  of  witch-doctor  and  assumed  that  of  head 
man,  came  up.  Cazi  Moto  scratched  on  the  can 
vas  of  his  master's  tent  and  the  white  man  came 
out. 

"Ah,  n'ympara  jambo,"  he  greeted,  and  the 
dignitaries  shook  hands. 

IV 

To  EVERYBODY'S  relief  it  developed  that  the 
white  man  had  no  intention  of  moving  on,  at  least 
for  several  days.  Few  natives  look  beyond  the 
immediate  present,  so  that  was  good  enough. 
Relations  were  begun  between  the  members  of  the 
village  and  the  carriers.  Shimbo  gave  orders  that 
firewood  and  m'weinbe  meal  be  brought  in. 


THE    NAMING  25 

M'Kuni,  discovering  his  son  and  heir  in  the  ranks 
of  onlookers,  clouted  him  over  the  head  and  sent 
him  scurrying  back  to  his  neglected  duties. 

On  the  hilltop  with  the  cattle,  Toto  was  im 
mensely  surprised  to  discover  that  Maongo  was 
far  from  sharing  his  thrills  over  this  new  demi-god. 
It  was  not  that  the  older  boy  said  much  in  dis 
paragement  as  that  he  failed  to  respond  to  or  take 
much  interest  in  his  friend's  dithyrambs.  Toto's 
explanations  dashed  against  a  stolidity  that  flat 
tened  them.  After  a  half  hour  he  began  to  doubt 
the  value  of  his  own  impressions.  By  sheer  in 
ertia  Maongo  had  regained  his  threatened  su 
periority  with  his  small  companion. 

Three  days  went  by.  The  white  man's  camp 
remained.  Twice  he  went  out  on  the  veldt  and 
shot  beasts,  some  of  which  he  retained  for  him 
self,  and  others  he  presented  to  the  village.  Toto, 
chained  to  duty,  was  unable  to  accompany  these 
expeditions,  but  he  heard  fully-embellished  tales 
of  how  the  gun  spoke  with  a  roaring  voice  like  a 
god,  and  how  without  an  instant's  pause  the  beast 
fell;  and  he  himself  saw  the  carcasses  and  examined 
the  holes  from  which  life  had  escaped.  The 


26  SIMBA 

instant,  however,  the  cattle  had  been  safely  im 
pounded,  he  and  his  friends  raced  to  the  camp 
by  the  river  where  they  hung  around  like  small 
boys  at  a  circus  until  ordered  out.  And  before  the 
three  days  were  up,  so  adaptable  is  the  human 
mind,  they  had  become  quite  accustomed  to  the 
white  man,  as  though  they  had  always  had  him 
with  them.  To  members  of  neighbouring  but 
distant  villages  they  would  probably  have  acted 
quite  blase  concerning  the  white  man. 

On  the  third  day  came  the  officials  from  Leyeye. 
These  were  magnificent  men,  haughty,  proud, 
inaccessible,  with  robes  of  bead-embroidered  goat 
skins,  much  jewellery,  their  heads  shaved  in  fan 
tastic  patterns.  Each  man  was  accompanied  by 
slaves  carrying  such  things  as  small  hewn  wooden 
stools  on  thongs,  or  snuff  boxes  made  of  buffalo 
horns,  or  kiboko  whips.  They  and  their  retinue 
at  once  occupied  the  great  houses  in  the  middle 
of  the  village. 

That  very  night  they  and  the  white  man  held 
a  council. 

From  any  but  a  native  point  of  view  the  talk 
was  long,  purposeless,  and  without  result.  Yet  in 


THE    NAMING  27 

some  manner  several  bits  of  information  came  to 
light.  The  white  man,  Kingozi,  developed  un 
suspected  powers  of  entertainment.  He  could 
swallow  a  small  object,  or  toss  it  into  the  air,  and 
then  pluck  it  from  the  strangest  places,  such  as  a 
man's  ear  or  the  edge  of  his  robe.  He  possessed  a 
queer  double  instrument  of  opposed  blades  with 
which  he  cut  folded  paper  in  such  a  manner  that 
when  unfolded  one  had  a  whole  row  of  little 
people  ahold  of  hands.  And  many  other  examples 
of  magic.  But  none  was  more  wonderful  than 
the  making  of  fire  with  the  twig.  Therefore,  these 
things  made  rather  for  interest  than  for  added 
prestige.  And  next  day  Kingozi  shot  a  wildebeeste 
and  gave  the  tail  to  Leyeye's  prime  minister,  and 
for  hours  all  hands  sat  under  a  tree  and  talked,  so 
that  everything  seemed  to  be  going  well.  Never 
theless,  affairs  were  edging  into  an  impasse.  It 
appeared  that  this  white  man  had  come  right 
across  Africa  from  the  Atlantic  Ocean;  that  such 
a  journey  was  long  and  terrible  and  expensive,  not 
to  speak  of  the  fact  that  transportation  was 
limited;  that  while  his  wealth  was  "as  the  leaves 
of  the  grass,"  he  had  not  much  of  it  with  him.  In 


28  SIMBA 

short,  that  the  payment  of  honga  was  at  present 
absolutely  out  of  the  question.  The  suggestion  was 
strongly  urged,  however,  that  as  a  fighter  of 
elephants  he  was  in  a  class  by  himself;  and  that 
within  a  very  brief  period  he  would  be  able — in 
short,  a  bid  for  credit.  The  envoys  had  nothing 
direct  to  say  to  this.  Everybody  was  very  polite 
and  vague.  But  a  situation  was  taking  shape, 
and  would  shortly  assume  solidity.  On  the  one 
hand,  no  honga  no  travel;  on  the  other,  I  will  go 
where  I  please. 

V 

TOTO,  along  with  the  rest  of  the  village,  was 
awakened  by  a  plunging  and  bawling  just  outside. 
The  usually  mild  cattle  were  rushing  to  and  fro 
madly,  jostling  each  other  and  the  frail  walls  of 
the  hut.  Beneath  the  din  of  their  voices  was 
another,  a  low,  rumbling,  bloodcurdling  growl. 
Everybody  rushed  forth,  the  men  snatching  their 
weapons,  the  women  grasping  armfuls  of  the  dry 
thatch.  These  latter  cast  on  the  smouldering  fires 
blazed  up  at  once,  throwing  the  immediate  sur 
roundings  into  strong  light.  The  cattle  were 


THE    NAMING  29 

tossing  their  heads,  their  eyes  white  with  terror. 
Two  or  three  of  the  flimsy  interior  fences  had 
given  way  to  the  pressure  and  the  herds  were 
surging  out  into  the  open  common,  trampling  the 
embers  of  the  conical  fires  and  crashing  through 
all  that  stood  in  their  way. 

The  people  were  rushing  toward  a  single  point 
near  the  great  gate.  Several  had  snatched  brands 
which  they  were  waving  about,  trying  to  coax 
them  into  flame.  Some  of  the  women  were  carry 
ing  bundles  of  blazing  grass  and  screaming.  There 
seemed  to  be  a  narrow,  irregular  gap  in  the  walls 
of  the  thorn  boma,  and  through  this  everybody, 
screeching  and  yelling,  was  trying  to  crowd.  All 
were  shouting  the  same  over  and  over — simba! 
simba!  simba! — which  is  the  Swahili  for  lion. 

Toto  was  small,  so  he  managed  to  get  through 
the  gap  only  after  most  of  the  others  had  passed. 

The  light  outside,  cast  by  the  impromptu 
torches,  was  dim  and  flickering.  Toto  saw  dancing 
shadows,  and  the  immense  darkness  of  the  night 
that  darted  forward  and  back,  and  the  flash  of 
many  poised  spears  and  the  whites  of  many 
eyeballs  and  the  gleam  of  teeth  in  the  mouths  of 


30  SIMBA 

men  shouting.  And  beyond  he  saw  a  magnificent 
great  beast  standing  one  paw  on  a  dead  cow  that 
it  had  carried  bodily  thus  far,  its  ears  back,  its 
mane  erect,  its  long  teeth  exposed,  eyeing  its 
hesitating  enemies  with  haughty  scorn.  Each 
breath  growled  in  its  throat.  Then  realizing  itself 
closely  pressed,  it  withdrew  its  massive  paw. 
Abruptly  it  was  gone. 

VI 

THIS  excitement  lasted  the  village  all  night. 
The  fires  were  built  up  strongly  so  that  the 
place  was  as  light  as  day.  Women  mended  the 
boma  and  the  inside  corrals,  and  drove  back  the 
cattle  to  their  proper  places.  Everybody  talked 
at  great  length  and  from  each  individual  stand 
point.  In  the  morning  Leyeye's  envoys  and  the 
leading  men  of  the  village  went  over  to  see  the 
white  man  about  it.  They  suggested  two  things: 
medicine  to  bring  the  defunct  cow  to  life,  and 
magic  to  prevent  repetition.  Kingozi  proposed 
that,  as  a  compromise,  they  try  to  hunt  down  and 
kill  the  offender. 

Accordingly  they  took  the  field.    Kingozi  went 


THE    NAMING  31 

first,  carrying  a  gun;  Cazi  Moto  at  his  heels  bore 
another.  The  envoys  from  Leyeye  armed  with 
spears  and  a  miscellaneous  few  of  the  bolder  vil 
lagers  acted  as  scouts  and  beaters.  A  mosquito 
fleet  of  small  boys  constituted  a  sort  of  covering 
and  flanking  party.  Kingozi  tried  in  vain  to  modify 
this  arrangement,  but  failing  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders  philosophically. 

"This  is,  of  course,  shenzi  foolishness,"  he  re 
marked  to  his  familiar,  Cazi  Moto,  "simba  will 
hear  us  and  will  walk  away.  For  as  you  know, 
Cazi  Moto,  simba  is  no  fool." 

Nevertheless,  for  the  sake  of  good  feeling  and 
to  show  intention  Kingozi  proceeded  for  a  while 
although  perfunctorily,  as  though  he  expected  to 
find  the  lion. 

Of  this  country  the  open  grass  veldt  was  marked 
in  the  bottoms  by  narrow,  bush-grown,  eroded 
ravines  from  six  to  ten  feet  deep  called  dongas. 
The  hunting  party  proceeded  down  one  of  these 
and  up  another,  trying  systematically  to  cover  all 
possibilities.  Some  walked  on  one  side  and  some 
on  the  other.  All  threw  stones  and  beat  with 
sticks.  Kingozi  knew  that,  while  this  method 


32  SIMBA 

might  be  good  in  isolated  patches  of  cover,  it  was 
worthless  here.  The  lion  would  quietly  sneak 
down  the  bed  of  the  donga  ahead  of  this  clatter. 

But  it  was  fun  for  all  that.  Kingozi,  who  was 
very  young  in  spite  of  his  beard,  enjoyed  himself 
hugely.  The  showers  of  stones  flushed  all  sorts  of 
interesting  things.  One  never  knew  what  was 
coming  next.  Now  a  tiny  grass  antelope  dashed 
frantically  from  cover,  or  a  bustard  flopped  up,  or 
a  string  of  guinea  fowl  soared  away,  or  perhaps  a 
band  of  baboons  withdrew  cursing.  Mile  after 
mile  they  went  thus. 

"Here,"  said  Kingozi  to  Cazi  Moto,  "is  water 
everywhere  and  cover.  This  is  not  like  a  country 
of  rocky  hills  where  there  are  only  a  few  places  to 
look.  Here  simba  can  drink  anywhere  he  pleases. 
One  might  as  well  seek  virtue  in  an  Arab." 

But  no  sooner  were  the  words  out  of  his  mouth 
when  they  were  given  the  lie. 

From  a  clump  of  grass  atop  a  low  anthill,  not 
thirty  yards  distant,  a  lion  thrust  his  head  and 
stared  at  them  steadily. 

Everybody  stopped  short  in  his  tracks.  Quite 
deliberately  Kingozi  raised  his  weapon,  took  care- 


THE    NAMING  33 

ful  aim,  and  fired.  With  a  strangled  grunt  the 
beast  fell  backward  off  the  anthill  and  his  tail 
flew  up  in  the  manner  of  lions  when  fatally  hit. 
For  a  moment  no  one  moved:  then  with  a  wild 
yell  every  man  and  boy  charged  down  on  the 
fallen  marauder. 

"Stop!  stop!"  shrieked  Kingozi  at  the  top  of 
his  lungs,  but  was  unable  to  make  himself  heard. 
Swearing  vigorously  in  English  he  exchanged  guns 
with  Cazi  Moto  and  also  ran  forward. 

However,  the  lion  proved  really  dead,  for  a 
wonder.  It  was  a  medium-sized  beast  with  an 
excellent  mane.  Cazi  Moto,  laying  aside  his  rule, 
began  at  once  to  skin  it. 

After  the  first  excitement  and  interest  had 
passed  away  many  of  the  assistants  scattered. 
Some  of  the  men  and  small  boys  began  to  try  for 
small  bucks  with  their  throwing  sticks.  Others 
sought  wild  fruit.  The  two  chief  envoys  from 
Leyeye  walked  deep  in  conversation  farther  along 
the  edge  of  the  donga.  Toto  and  Maongo,  with 
their  little  spears,  tagged  along  wide-eyed  and 
worshipping  of  such  grandeur. 

Now  all  this  was  foolishness.    A  lion  is  never 


34  SIMBA 

dead  until  you  pull  his  tail;  and  in  Africa  danger 
is  never  absent  while  you  are  afoot.  This  lion 
had  a  mate;  and  many  attested  incidents  and  ac 
cidents  prove  that  when  bereaved/e/w  leo  cherishes 
rancor.  Toto  heard  a  scrambling,  a  snarling 
growl.  He  whirled  to  see  a  lioness  top  the  edge 
of  the  donga  just  behind  him. 

Toto's  instinct — a  perfectly  proper  one — was  to 
use  his  legs.  He  uttered  a  howl  and  started  to 
make  off.  In  the  flash  of  his  turning  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  his  friend — and  hero — Maongo.  Maon- 
go  was  not  running  away.  He  was  facing  in  the 
direction  of  the  lioness,  his  little  spear  grasped 
in  his  hand.  He  alone — with  Toto — stood  between 
the  ravening  beast  and  the  sacred  persons  of  the 
envoys.  It  was  exactly  like  the  high-flown  tales 
Toto  had  heard  told  around  the  campfires — 
tales  of  heroes  and  demi-gods  of  the  fabled  past. 
Only  this  was  here  and  now:  and  Maongo  was 
taking  the  shining  role!  Filled  with  a  sudden 
tide  of  generous  feeling,  Toto  commanded  his 
cowardly  legs.  He  raised  his  spear  as  though  to 
throw  and  stepped  forward  two  paces,  a  slender, 
ridiculous,  tiny  bronze  figure  against  the  great  beast. 


THE    NAMING  35 

And  Maongo,  whom  the  gods  had  stricken  with  the 
imbecile  paralysis  of  terror  probably  for  this  very 
purpose,  suddenly  regained  his  faculties,  dropped 
his  spearlet,  and  departed  rapidly,  uttering  shrieks. 

Whether  Toto  would  have  followed  him  or  not 
it  is  impossible  to  say.  Toto  was  no  hero;  only  a 
hero  worshipper  who  had  been  foully  betrayed 
into  a  great  moment.  But  he  had  no  time  to 
move.  The  lioness  swept  over  and  by  him.  Prob 
ably  she  considered  herself  after  larger  game, 
and  could  not  bother  with  small  fry.  At  any  rate, 
Toto  thrust  valiantly  with  his  tiny  spear,  and  was 
knocked  aside  badly  scared,  out  of  wind,  but  un 
injured. 

Then  many  things  happened.  The  envoys 
squealed  and  tried  to  run.  Kingozi  swore,  grabbed 
his  rule,  and  shot  hastily.  Some  of  the  villagers 
took  to  thorn  trees,  some  dived  incontinently 
into  the  donga,  while  still  others  stood  frozen  in 
their  tracks.  All  yelled. 

Kingozi's  snap  shot  took  the  lioness  too  far 
back  to  stop  her;  but  fortunately  slowed  her 
down.  Otherwise  her  superiority  in  speed  would 
very  promptly  have  rewarded  her  with  one 


36  SIMBA 

scared  old  gentleman.  As  it  was,  she  could  go  just 
about  a  good  fast  human  gait.  And  as  the  scared 
old  gentleman  elected  to  run  in  circles  instead  of 
on  a  straightaway,  the  whole  action  of  the  piece 
took  place  in  a  constricted  area.  It  was  undoubt 
edly  somewhat  comic — the  complete  breakdown 
of  dignity,  the  flapping  goat-skin  robes,  the 
important  ambassador  suddenly  become  quite 
simply  an  agonized  embodiment  of  abject  terror; 
and  the  crippled  lioness  trying  with  an  earnest 
singleness  of  purpose  to  catch  up,  and  the  chase 
turning  around  and  around  on  itself  like  a  Sunday- 
supplement  drawing  of  a  bulldog  after  a  tramp. 
However,  the  situation  was  serious  enough.  One 
blow  of  that  huge  paw  would  be  sufficient. 

Kingozi,  still  swearing  vigorously,  shouting  un 
heard  commands  to  run  in  a  straight  line,  was 
trying  in  vain  to  deliver  a  safe  shot. 

The  old  man  would  not  listen,  he  persisted  in 
running  in  circles,  he  could  not  separate  himself 
far  enough  from  the  beast  to  get  out  of  bullet 
danger.  The  lioness  was  gaining,  and  the  rep 
resentative  of  Leyeye  was  doing  his  utmost. 
Even  the  hot  breath  of  the  beast  failed  to  develop 


THE    NAMING  37 

in  him  another  second  of  speed.  Finally  Kingozi, 
still  cursing,  was  forced  to  shoot  anyhow.  And  by 
the  greatest  good  fortune  the  bullet  missed  the 
man  and  broke  the  beast's  neck. 

"Of  all  astounding  bull  luck!"  quoth  Kingozi 
in  English,  wiping  his  brow. 

VII 

THE  excitement  settled,  as  dust  settles  in  still 
air.  Those  who  had  climbed  the  thorn  trees 
descended  with  many  lamentations;  those  who 
had  dived  into  the  donga  reappeared;  those  who 
had  been  frozen  thawed  out  into  vociferations. 
The  envoys  gradually  regained  their  dignity. 
Considerable  language  was  used. 

Kingozi  paid  no  attention  to  any  of  this.  He 
had  fallen  back  into  his  usual  rather  cynical 
aloofness.  With  Cazi  Moto  he  exchanged  a  few 
low- voiced  comments;  then  the  two  of  them  went 
to  the  dead  lioness  and  Cazi  Moto  began  to  skin 
her.  Kingozi  watched  him.  A  dozen  times  he 
was  addressed  by  one  or  another  of  the  excited 
and  triumphant  bystanders,  but  was  apparently 
so  lost  in  a  brown  study  that  he  did  not  even  hear 


38  SIMBA 

them.  When  the  skin  was  at  last  removed  and 
drawn  one  side  he  shook  himself  and  seemed  to 
rouse. 

"  Come  here,"  he  said  to  the  envoy. 

When  the  old  man  had  approached  Kingozi  took 
from  his  hand  the  long,  heavy  spear  and  with  a 
strong  thrust  stuck  it  upright  in  the  ground. 

"You  have  asked  of  me  honga"  he  said,  "and 
if  I  possessed  wire  I  would  gladly  bury  that 
spear  in  coils.  But  I  have  told  you  I  have  no 
wire.  Nevertheless,  the  time  has  come  to  pay. 
Here  now,  according  to  custom,  over  the  spear  I 
throw  my  honga" 

He  stooped  swiftly,  gathered  the  green  hide  of 
the  lioness  in  his  two  hands,  and  with  a  powerful 
effort  impaled  it  on  the  spear  point.  The  soft 
folds  fell  about  the  shaft,  completely  covering  it. 

"Is  it  sufficient?"  he  challenged. 

The  old  man  raised  his  hands  that  still  trembled. 

"It  is  sufficient,  bwana,  and  morel"  he  replied. 

Kingozi  broke  into  a  great  laugh  and  looked 
around  him. 

"Where  is  the  boy?"  he  enquired.  "The  boy 
who  stood  in  the  way?  " 


THE    NAMING  39 

Several  shoved  forward  Toto;  and  Maongo,  his 
nerve  by  now  quite  recovered,  stepped  up  of  his 
own  accord.  For  some  seconds  Kingozi  stared  at 
the  two  of  them  in  silence.  Then  he  gave  Maongo 
a  box  in  the  side  of  the  head  that  sent  him  reeling. 

"How  is  it  that  a  coward  dares  stand  before 
me?"  he  said,  without  heat.  "Begone!"  He 
unskeathed  his  hunting  knife  and  cut  from  the 
carcass  of  the  lioness  a  piece  of  the  body  fat. 
With  this  he  solemnly  rubbed  Toto's  forehead. 

"The  lion,  simba,  is  bravest  among  beasts/' 
said  he.  "Remember  that  this  magic  will  make 
it  possible  for  you  to  be  the  bravest  among  your 
companions."  He  grinned  under  his  beard  as  he 
contemplated  the  serious,  erect  little  figure.  "And 
that  wouldn't  be  saying  much,"  he  remarked,  but 
in  English.  "  What  is  your  name?  "  he  asked. 

Toto  stood  very  straight,  clasping  his  tiny  spear 
and  staring  at  the  white  man.  His  little  soul  was 
so  full  of  splendour  and  glory  and  high  emotion 
that  he  would  have  cried  had  he  tried  to  speak; 
and  greatly  Toto  desired  not  to  cry.  And  in 
truth  he  hardly  heard  the  question.  Kingozi 
repeated  it.  A  half-dozen  bystanders  attempted 


40  SIMBA 

to  volunteer  the  information;  but  the  white  man 
held  up  his  hand. 

"  Answer !"  he  commanded. 

And  Toto,  his  adoration  of  his  new  hero  shining 
from  his  eyes,  found  his  voice  at  last.  His  shoul 
ders  went  back  and  his  head  up. 

"My  name  is  Simba!"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  n 
WHITE  MAGIC 

OLD  SHIMBO,  the  witch-doctor,  was  full 
of  business  these  days.    Affairs  had  piled 
up  on  him:  and  as  Shimbo  was  by  now 
an  aged  man  with  the  irascibility  of  one  long  in 
unopposed  authority,  he  considered  that  he  was 
having  a  hard  time  of  it. 

Outside  the  routine  duties  peculiar  to  his  job, 
Shimbo  was  confronted  by  two  other  weighty 
affairs.  A  four-year  period  had  passed,  and  now 
another  batch  of  youths  was  awaiting  the  elabo 
rate  initiation  ceremonies  that  should  turn  them 
out  as  full-fledged  warriors;  the  white  man's  hard- 
fought  war  with  the  Wakamba  was  coming  to  an 
end  and  the  mighty  people  of  whom  Shimbo  was 
one  lay  next  in  the  conqueror's  path.  These 
things  must  be  attended  to. 

Old  Shimbo  dwelt  in  a  little  hut  just  within  the 
village  enclosure.  His  wives  he  kept  next  door  in 

41 


42  SIMBA 

a  larger  hut,  together  with  the  considerable 
wealth  he  had  accumulated.  No  one  was  ever 
allowed  to  enter  the  little  hut.  It  was  a  queer 
kennel,  hung  with  such  matters  as  bits  of  skin, 
gourds  filled  with  miscellaneous  magic,  iron  bells 
on  the  ends  of  thongs,  bones,  dried  herbs  in 
packets.  A  couch  of  skins  occupied  one  corner. 

From  this  Shimbo  stirred  his  creaking  bones 
only  after  the  sun  was  well  up.  Then  he  huddled 
at  his  doorstep  before  a  tiny  fire  over  which  bub 
bled  a  mysterious  pot.  One  of  his  hags  brought 
him  food.  The  cattle  had  long  since  moved  out 
from  the  village  to  the  hills;  and  the  people  were 
busy  with  their  accustomed  routine.  Shimbo  mut 
tered  darkly  to  himself. 

To  him  came  rather  timidly  a  bright-faced  young 
native,  his  arm  around  the  waist  of  an  attractive 
young  woman.  They  stood  waiting  bashfully. 

"O  Shimbo!"  greeted  the  young  man  timidly. 

"  What  is  it?  "  grunted  Shimbo. 

The  young  man  explained.    He  was  owner  of  a 
new  shamba,  or  little  farm,  just  beyond  the  village. 
His  crops  were  ripening.    Thieves  were  stealing 
the  crops—-     " 


WHITE    MAGIC  43 

Shimbo  waved  his  skinny  hand. 

"I  have  no  time  for  such  little  things,"  he 
croaked. 

The  young  man  became  urgent.  He  was  newly 
married.  These  crops  were  all  his  wealth  except 

— he  would  pay He  drew  from  beneath  his 

goat-skin  robe  an  ornamented  snuff-horn  which  he 
offered.  Shimbo  snatched  it,  looked  it  over, 
thrust  it  beneath  his  own  robe,  and  silently 
reached  out  his  skinny  hand.  The  consultant 
sighed  and  slowly  produced  a  bead  armlet.  Shim 
bo  examined  this  also.  Apparently  satisfied,  he 
made  a  long  arm  into  his  hut  and  dragged  from  it 
a  leopard  skin,  which  he  spread  before  him.  On 
this  he  proceeded  to  spill  one  by  one  various  seeds 
and  pebbles  from  a  gourd,  first  shaking  them  as 
one  shakes  dice.  As  each  fell  on  the  spotted  skin 
he  examined  it  closely  but  without  comment 
other  than  an  occasional  non-committal  grunt. 
When  the  last  pebble  had  fallen  he  sat  for  some 
time  in  silence.  Then,  gathering  up  the  leopard 
skin,  he  disappeared  into  his  hut.  Emerging 
thence  he  passed  swiftly,  for  one  so  old,  to  the 
council  tree.  There  a  few  words  to  the  loungers 


44  SIMBA 

conveyed  his  wishes.  The  whole  masculine  and 
a  considerable  of  the  feminine  portions  of  the 
village  followed  him  through  the  gates  into  the 
open  fields. 

Arrived  at  the  farm  in  question  he  halted  the 
spectators  at  the  boundaries,  while  he  himself, 
bent  nearly  double,  traversed  the  field  from  end 
to  end.  Every  ten  feet  or  so  he  cast  unguessable 
small  objects  on  the  ground,  muttering  strange 
gibberish  over  each.  The  people  looked  with 
awe.  When  Shimbo  ended  by  thrusting  stones 
and  bundles  of  grass  in  tree  crotches,  they  were 
not  deceived.  These  were  but  blinds:  the  really 
potent  magic  was  on  the  ground 

Then  the  procession  returned  to  the  village. 
Shimbo  hobbling,  and  muttering,  a  little  in  advance. 
There  was  no  need  for  words.  The  crops  were 
safe  from  theft,  for  every  human  being  knew  that 
the  effect  of  Shimbo's  magic  was  to  bring  on  any 
one  who  touched  it  at  night  a  sort  of  madness  so 
that  he  would  cry  out  loudly  and  so  be  caught. 
Shimbo  sank  back  to  his  place  in  the  sun  with  a 
groan.  This  was  hard  work. 

But  he  was  not  left  long  in  peace.    A  strongly 


WHITE    MAGIC  45 

built  middle-aged  man  with  an  evil  face  planted 
his  spear  and  sat  close  to  whisper  his  desires. 
He  had  an  enemy,  in  another  village — he  went  on 
at  length  detailing  his  grievances  and  the  harm 
he  had  suffered 

Shimbo  cut  him  short.  This  was  serious  busi 
ness,  the  business  of  a  muoiin  who  deals  in  black 
magic;  not  of  a  mere  mundu  mue  who  knows  only 
white  magic.  It  must  be  paid.  Ensued  bar 
gaining  at  the  satisfactory  conclusion  of  which 
Shimbo  went  into  executive  session  with  himself. 

"Your  enemy  has  come  to  visit  this  village  to 
day?"  he  demanded. 

"Of  course,  0  Muoiin"  said  the  man.  "That 
I  knew  to  be  necessary." 

For  the  second  time  Shimbo  arose  and  followed 
his  client  to  a  sandy  spot  outside  the  village.  The 
man  led  him  to  a  little  pile  of  leafy  boughs  laid 
on  the  ground.  These  being  removed,  disclosed 
the  print  of  a  foot.  Shimbo  spat  carefully  in  this 
print,  took  up  the  wetted  sand  and  wrapped  it  in 
a  bit  of  skin. 

"Now  the  hyena,"  he  commanded.  "Is  it 
far?" 


46  SIMBA 

"Very  near,  0  Muoiin"  replied  the  man  respect 
fully. 

He  guided  Shimbo  to  the  edge  of  a  thicket  where 
lay  the  body  of  a  hyena  freshly  poisoned  for  this 
very  purpose.  Shimbo  fumbled  in  his  robe,  drew 
forth  a  tiny  ceremonial  knife,  muttered  a  charm, 
and  then  proceeded  to  cut  off  the  beast's  nose. 
Thereupon,  followed  by  his  client,  he  returned  to 
his  office. 

His  next  procedure  was  to  empty  his  kettle  and 
replenish  it  with  a  small  quantity  of  fresh,  but 
magic,  water  from  a  gourd.  Into  this  he  put  the 
sand  from  the  footprint,  the  hyena's  nose,  the 
dung  of  an  ox,  and  a  dozen  sorts  of  dried  herbs. 
Muttering  spells,  he  stirred  this  mixture  until  the 
water  had  boiled  away.  The  residue  he  wrapped 
in  a  leaf  which  the  client  accepted.  When  the 
magic  had  quite  dried  to  a  powder,  he  would 
blow  it  from  the  palm  of  his  hand  toward  his 
enemy.  The  enemy  was  thereupon  done  for. 
Doubt?  None  whatever.  Shimbo  knew  that 
the  chances  of  something  happening  to  that  enemy 
were  pretty  strong.  And  if  the  common  accidents 
of  life  passed  by,  nevertheless  that  victim  was 


WHITE    MAGIC  47 

sure  to  be  Informed  that  magic  was  out  against 
him.  Such  is  the  power  of  mind  over  body  among 
savages  that  he  would  quite  likely  give  up  and  die 
anyway.  His  alternative  was  to  get  an  antidote  of 
Shimbo  at  a  price.  And  if  anything  went  wrong. 
Shimbo  had  at  least  five  pre-arranged  counter- 
accusations  as  to  faulty  procedure  by  the  man 
who  used  the  magic.  As  black  magic  comes  high, 
and  Shimbo's  motto  was  "cash  in  advance/'  he 
felt  well  satisfied  with  the  transaction. 

All  this  took  time.  By  now  a  dozen  clients 
were  waiting.  Their  requests  were  of  every  de 
gree  of  importance.  Thus  one  man  from  an  out 
lying  settlement  wished  to  obtain  from  Shimbo 
the  power  of  curing  the  bite  of  poisonous  snakes. 
Since  this  constituted  delegated  authority, 
Shimbo  insisted  on  a  good  fat  fee;  and  in  addition 
a  royalty  on  cures,  although  lacking  the  civilized 
convenience  of  auditors,  Shimbo  knew  that  his 
chances  of  accurate  accounting  were  slim.  The 
witch  doctor  then  proceeded  to  slit  the  end  of  the 
applicant's  tongue,  and  to  rub  into  the  cut  certain 
powders.  Thereafter  whenever  this  gifted  person 
spat  upon  a  snake,  that  serpent  would  immediately 


'48  SIMBA 

go  into  convulsions,  writhe  about,  and  bite  itself  to 
death.  And  if  he  were  to  spit  upon  a  snake  bitten 
person,  that  person  would  immediately  get  well. 

Besides  those  important  professional  matters 
there  were  many  people  desiring  charms  for  one 
purpose  or  another;  and  advice  on  the  more  tick 
lish  occult  aspects  of  everyday  life.  Shimbo  was 
a  very  rushed,  harried,  important,  fussy,  and  some 
what  cross  old  gentleman.  As  soon  as  each  client 
was  disposed  of  he  walked  out  the  rear  of  the  little 
enclosure  to  find  himself  before  the  larger  huts  in 
which  dwelt  Shimbo's  wives.  These  estimable 
old  ladies,  basking  in  the  sun,  were  only  too  ready 
for  a  gossip.  They  were  very  voluble,  mainly 
about  the  important  and  busy  life  led  by  their 
distinguished  husband.  A  very  free  translation 
of  their  remarks  would  perhaps  sound  familiar. 

"You  have  no  idea,  my  dear,  of  the  demands 
on  that  poor  man!  I  give  you  my  word  he  never 
knows  whether  he's  eaten  or  not;  and  I  often  say 
to  Mary  that  if  he  doesn't  take  a  rest  before  long, 
he'll  suffer  a  complete  breakdown.  But  he  feels 
that  he  should  not  consider  himself.  He  feels  it 
a  public  duty.  I  don't  know  what  this  com- 


WHITE    MAGIC  49 

muiiity  would  do  without  him.  I  think  we  should 
all  feel  deeply  grateful  that  we  have  a  man  of  his 
gifts  with  us,  and  that  he  is  willing  to  devote  him 
self  to  our  welfare.  But  he  is  overdoing." 

II 

Tms  lively  and  well-paid  traffic  suffered  an 
interruption  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
A  half-dozen  grave  savages  filed  into  the  com 
pound  and  squatted  before  the  witch-doctor.  One 
of  them  carried  a  richly  ornamented  stool  on  the 
end  of  a  thong,  which  was  an  indication  of  rank. 
In  fact,  he  was  Mukeku,  headman  of  the  village. 
His  companions  were  also  men  of  consequence, 
among  them  M'Kuni,  the  father  of  Simba.  Shimbo 
glanced  up  at  them  half  malevolently,  made  no 
greeting,  and  continued  to  mutter  spells  over  his 
little  fire. 

"O  Muoiin,"  said  Mukeku,  after  formal  greet 
ing.  "Our  young  men  are  prepared  and  waiting. 
They  have  been  ready  for  some  days.  The 
mazungu  (white  men)  approach  with  their  war 
riors.  It  is  necessary  that  all  our  warriors  should 
be  ready.  We  have  come  to  know  the  day. 


50  SIMBA 

Here  at  hand  are  all  things  necessary.  The  small 
huts  of  ceremony  are  built;  the  great  hut  of  cere 
mony,  the  nzaiko,  is  built.  The  headdresses  of 
bird  skins  are  prepared.  The  youth  have  gone 
painted  the  right  number  of  days.  At  hand  are 
cattle,  goats,  honey,  for  the  feast.  All  is  ready. 
Nothing  lacks  but  yourself,  O  Muoiin.  Name 
the  time." 

Shimbo  muttered  and  stirred  the  fire  without 
for  the  present  making  any  direct  reply.  He  was 
none  too-well-pleased.  This  was  public  duty — 
unpaid.  He  knew  his  power:  he  could  quite 
well  send  these  people  away.  They  stood  in  awe 
of  him.  But  eventually  the  job  must  be  done. 
He  spread  out  ashes,  made  mysterious  patterns 
with  the  end  of  a  stick,  pretended  to  consult  them. 

"The  omens  are  right  for  two  days  hence," 
he  croaked  ungraciously,  and  buried  his  nose  in 
his  robe. 

Ill 

AMONG  the  youths  ready  for  the  initiation 
ceremonies  wasSimba,  son  of  M'Kuni,  a  young  man 
of  perhaps  eighteen  years.  His  preparation  had 


WHITE    MAGIC  51 

begun  two  weeks  previously.  In  company  with 
his  fellow  candidates  he  had  haunted  the  stream 
beds,  the  dongas,  the  bits  of  forest,  where  small 
birds  were  most  abundant.  At  these  he  had  shot 
painstakingly  with  blunt-headed  arrows  until  he 
had  accumulated  enough  of  the  skins  to  make 
himself  a  headdress.  They  were  skinned  cylindri- 
cally,  and  hung  to  a  fillet,  so  that  they  dangled 
about  his  neck  with  very  much  the  appearance  of 
old-fashioned  corkscrew  curls.  Then  he  assumed 
a  plain,  unornamented  black  robe  of  goat  skins,  and 
stalked  mysteriously  about  in  the  brush  outside 
the  village  compound,  religiously  observing  in 
numerable  prohibitions  and  inhibitions,  eschewing 
ostentatiously  all  his  fellow  beings,  and  feeling 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  of  decided  importance. 
He  slept  in  a  hut  set  apart  for  the  candidates,  and 
he  ate  only  certain  prescribed  food  of  limited 
quantity. 

This,  as  has  been  said,  had  been  going  on  for 
two  weeks.  All  had  been  ready  for  the  last  ten 
days.  Simba  and  his  companions  were  getting 
decidedly  overtrained. 

True  to   his  promise,   however,   old   Shimbo, 


52  SIMBA 

dressed  and  painted  as  devilishly  as  his  vivid 
imagination  and  long  experience  would  allow, 
came  for  the  initiates  on  the  morning  agreed.  In 
his  hand  he  held  a  number  of  miniature  bows  and 
arrows,  mere  children's  toys,  which  he  distributed. 
Then,  bent  over  and  slightly  crow-hopping,  he 
led  his  hopefuls  down  to  the  dry  stream  bed  below 
the  village.  Here  the  sun  was  at  its  hottest  and 
the  rocks,  radiating  like  furnaces,  were  aswarm 
with  reptile  life.  Simba  tried  again  and  again 
with  the  awkward,  silly  little  weapon,  but  at  length 
succeeded  in  transfixing  his  quarry,  a  specimen 
of  that  peculiar  lizard  called  telembo  by  his  people. 
With  this  impaled  on  the  slender  tiny  arrow,  he 
joined  the  group  around  old  Shimbo.  When  every 
candidate  had  his  lizard,  the  procession  returned 
to  the  village,  each  holding  his  arrow  aloft.  They 
marched  in  single  file,  very  solemn,  and  the 
people  stood  by  and  clapped  their  hands  in 
rhythm.  As  they  approached  the  nzaiko  hut  they 
showed  the  lizards  to  the  elders,  assembled  in  a 
group,  then  threw  them  with  the  arrows  on  the 
thatched  roof  and  passed  within.  Shimbo  stood 
in  the  doorway,  an  awesome  figure. 


WHITE    MAGIC  53 

"By  the  magic  of  this  day,"  he  announced  in  a 
solemn  voice,  "always  shall  you  shoot  straight  at 
your  game  and  at  your  enemies." 

With  that  he  left  them  and  scuttled  back  to 
his  private  practice,  which  he  felt  had  been  sadly 
interrupted.  Simba  and  his  friends  sat  in  the 
semi-darkness  of  the  hut  in  a  silence  that  lasted 
all  day  and  all  night. 

The  following  morning  Shimbo  reappeared  and 
led  them  again  outside  the  village  walls.  On  a 
side  hill  a  half  mile  distant  a  small  herd  of  cattle 
could  be  discovered  guarded  by  a  dozen  men. 
Toward  these  the  candidates  made'  their  way, 
worming  from  one  bit  of  corn  to  the  other,  trying 
by  every  savage  device  to  remain  invisible.  When 
within  fifty  or  eighty  yards  one  of  the  Elders,  ' 
stationed  on  a  rock,  pretended  for  the  first  time 
to  become  aware  of  their  approach. 

"Look  out!    The  Masai  attack!"  he  cried. 

Immediately  the  youths  leaped  to  their  feet, 
hurling  clouds  of  earth  at  the  herdsmen,  running 
here  and  there,  trying  to  surround  the  cattle. 
The  herdsmen  replied  with  missiles  of  solanum 
fruit  collected  in  heaps  for  the  occasion.  As  the 


54  SIMBA 

attacking  party  were  strictly  limited  to  the  afore 
said  clods,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  weight  of 
artillery  was  with  the  defence.  In  fact,  a  solanum 
fruit  would  not  yield  much  in  effectiveness  to  a 
baseball.  The  embryo  warriors  were  well  pelted. 
Simba  caught  one  in  the  side  of  the  head  that 
nearly  knocked  him  out  and  raised  a  bump  as 
big  as  itself.  Another  shrewdly  aimed  took  him 
in  the  ribs.  A  third  numbed  his'  arm.  Neverthe 
less,  he  gave  no  sign  of  pain,  but  pressed  on  shout 
ing,  for  he  knew  that  the  group  of  old  men  there 
yonder  were  watching  closely. 

Indeed,  after  the  attack  was  finished  and  the 
candidates,  panting  from  their  exertions  and  con 
siderably  the  worse  for  wear,  stood  before  them, 
old  Shimbo,  muttering  and  wagging  his  head, 
danced  forward  and  touched  Maongo  on  the 
shoulder. 

"Wea!"  he  declared,  and  the  Elders  repeated 
after  him,  "Weal" 

By  this  word,  which  means  "coward,"  they 
indicated  that  their  sharp  eyes  had  seen  Maongo 
shrink,  even  ever  so  slightly,  from  one  of  the 
blows.  And  Maongo,  almost  weeping,  was  forced 


WHITE    MAGIC  55 

to  fall  out  from  the  ranks  that  straightway 
returned  to  the  nzaiko  hut.  He  had  failed,  and 
must  either  await  another  initiation  time  or — 
what  was  more  likely — buy  his  way  to  a  second 
chance. 

After  another  afternoon  and  night  of  silence  the 
third  day  found  them  in  a  row  by  the  Council 
Tree,  facing  a  grave  concourse.  Shimbo  squatted 
in  the  foreground.  Before  him  lay  a  number  of 
sticks  of  a  certain  tree,  perhaps  three  feet  long  and 
three  inches  in  diameter.  He  called  Simba  out 
from  the  group  to  stand  before  him.  With  the 
point  of  his  knife  he  rapidly  cut  certain  con 
ventional  figures  in  the  back  of  one  of  the  sticks, 
a  sort  of  riddle  in  picture  writing  as  it  were.  He 
handed  it  to  Simba.  The  boy  examined  it  closely 
for  some  time  in  silence. 

"The  half  circle  is  the  rising  sun,"  he  then  said, 
"the  crooked  line  is  a  path — or  a  great  snake," 
he  added  doubtfully,  "and  the  other  mark  is  an 
arrow."  He  went  on  guessing  at  the  significance 
of  the  hieroglyphic-like  marks.  All  listened 
attentively.  At  the  last  Simba  correlated  his 
interpretations  into  a  sort  of  simple  message  or 


56  S I M  B  A 

story.  It  came  out  pretty  well,  without  too  many 
marks  left  unexplained,  and  with  a  fair  coherence 
of  its  own.  Therefore  Simba  was  considered  to 
have  passed  this  test,  even  though  his  ideas 
might  not  accurately  follow  Shimbo's  intention. 

Some  of  the  others  were  not  so  lucky.  But  since 
brains  are  scarcer  than  courage,  therefore  here  was 
greater  leniency.  The  candidate  who  failed  was 
not  eliminated.  T  ^ad  his  father  was  ridiculed 
by  ill  those  pi  *orced  at  once  to 

pay  a  fin  %/;  nee  drunk  by 

the  elder,  to  the  stupid 

youth  was  r  gulations. 

So  the  du  i  its  appropriate 

ceremony  o  *  times  the  young 

*nen  sat  in  tl  hut  and  said  not 

one  word  to  anybo^  iid  the  rite  of 

the  mumho  tree  vv^c  and  the  rite 

of  the  black  gr  ;  rite  of  the 

kula  kilwa  p^  .1  Mhi  dances  of  the 

young  \  ^pic,  anj  .uy  others  too  numerous  to 
mention.  At  the  end  came  the  grand  rfgoma  in 
which  the  entire  village  took  part;  a  dance  thut 
lasted  all  one  night;  an  affair  of  great  fires  and 


WHITE    MAGIC  57 

throbbing  drums.  When  it  was  all  over  Simba 
and  his  comrades  emerged  full-fledged  warriors, 
which  meant  that  their  front  teeth  had  been 
chipped  down  to  fine  points,  that  they  possessed 
grown-up  war  spears  and  gaudily  painted  hide 
shields,  and  that  they  were  privileged  to  buy  as 
many  wives  as  they  could  afford.  As  for  Shimbo, 
he  was  all  in. 

IV 

v> 

WITHIN  two  days  thereafter  ca^e  messengers 
from  Leyeye,  the  paramount  chief  of  all  the  tribes. 
These  were  haughty  and  arrogant  creatures  who 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  but  the  vil 
lage  heads.  The  purport  of  their  communication 
was  soon  known,  however.  The  white  men,  having , 
subdued  the  Wakamba,  were  on  the  way.  Leyeye 
was  sending  out  a  summons  tr.^.ll  his  .warn^s. 
The  message  was  transmitted  through  Mukeku, 
the  head  man. 

The  inflammable  African  temperament  caught 
fire.  Instantly  the  orderly  life  of  the  village  broke 
into  ten  thousand  kaleidoscopic  pieces.  Men  pro 
duced  items  of  equipment  and  proceeded  sedu- 


58  SIMBA 

lously  to  put  them  in  order.  Women  bustled 
about  packing  provisions  and  the  simple  outfit. 
Children  stood  wide-eyed,  ran  on  errands,  shrieked 
when  trodden  on.  Old  Shimbo,  on  the  verge  of 
breakdown  from  overwork,  made  spells  indus 
triously,  and  cudgelled  his  imagination  for  new 
effects  in  personal  adornment  that  would  lay  over 
anything  any  other  witch-doctor  might  spring. 

By  dawn  of  the  following  day  the  battalion 
moved,  sixty  odd  strong.  It  was  a  wonderful 
sight,  what  with  the  glitter  of  the  spears,  the  shine 
of  the  oiled  bronze  bodies,  the  nod  of  black 
ostrich  plumes,  the  magnificence  of  armlet,  necklet, 
and  belt,  the  ambers  and  blacks  and  whites  of  the 
oval  shields,  the  gleam  of  eyeballs  in  fierce,  grave 
countenances.  For  they  knew  of  the  white  man's 
power  and  his  guns  that  killed  at  a  distance,  like 
the  thunder.  The  situation  was  serious.  Every 
man  and  youth  was  perfectly  aware  of  the  chances 
against  him.  Nevertheless,  he  would  charge 
blithely  at  command.  It  has  become  fashionable 
of  late  to  speak  of  the  "cowardly  native."  There 
are  few  people  so  tempered  that,  naked,  armed 
only  with  spears,  they  would  charge  again  and 


.WHITE    MAGIC  59 

again  in  spite  of  losses  against  protected  rifle  fire — 
as  has  the  African.  Each  carried,  besides  his 
weapons,  only  a  light  covering,  and  a  little  dried 
food.  Old  Shimbo,  remarkably  spry  for  one  so 
aged,  marched  ahead.  He  was  painted  in  new 
and  startling  patterns,  his  face  was  a  grinning 
mask,  he  was  hung  all  over  with  charms,  he 
carried  a  rattle  that  constantly  he  agitated,  and  he 
had  mounted  a  pair  of  cow's  horns  on  his  fore 
head,  which  gave  him  a  thrillingly  devilish  appear 
ance. 

Across  the  open  veldt  they  took  their  way  in 
single  file.  They  walked  down  the  long  slope, 
across  the  bottom,  up  the  long  slope  again,  as  over 
low,  broad  billows  of  the  sea.  The  wild  animals 
with  which  the  plains  swarmed  hardly  stepped 
aside  to  permit  of  their  passing — the  zebra,  the 
gazelles,  the  brindled  wildebeeste,  the  little  grass 
antelope,  and  the  hartebeeste.  From  the  top  of 
each  billow  they  looked  across  the  broad  shallow 
cup  to  the  top  of  another.  Far  in  the  distance, 
above  the  atmosphere  of  the  heat  haze,  they 
could  see  the  pearly  snow  crest  of  Kilimanjaro 
apparently  floating  detached  in  mid-air  like  a 


6o  SIMBA 

soap  bubble.  Other  mountains  pierced  over  the 
edge  of  the  world.  A  clean,  strong  wind  was 
blowing;  and  the  sun  poured  like  a  brimming 
flood;  birds  wheeled,  uttering  wild  cries. 

Thus  they  marched  steadily  for  half  a  day,  all 
alone  in  the  world  save  for  the  beasts  and  birds. 
Then  far  to  the  left  they  saw  black  ant-like 
specks  toiling  up  the  slope.  Their  path  and  that 
of  the  strangers  slowly  converged.  It  became 
evident  that  this  was  another  war  party  bound 
for  the  same  destination  as  themselves.  And  to 
the  right  they  saw  more  warriors,  and  beyond 
them  a  fourth  band.  As  they  proceeded  these 
companions  became  more  numerous,  until  toward 
sundown  the  veldt  seemed  full  of  them,  all  moving 
slowly  toward  a  common  centre,  the  point  desig 
nated  by  the  messengers  of  Leyeye. 

The  rendezvous  was  at  the  edge  of  the  low 
plateau  overlooking  an  immense  plain.  The 
women  of  the  near-by  villages  had  been  busy  for 
days  erecting  shelters  of  wattle  daubed  with  mud. 
This,  within  a  few  hours,  dried  to  the  appear 
ance  of  stone,  lending  a  strange  illusion  of  per 
manence  to  temporary  habitations.  Hundreds  and 


WHITE    MAGIC  61 

hundreds  of  these  huts  they  had  built,  and  cords 
of  firewood  collected — a  tremendous  physical 
labour.  And  now  under  the  autocratic  command 
of  Leyeye  long  files  of  them  were  converging  from 
all  points  bent  double  under  loads  of  food.  It 
was  a  notable  gathering. 

The  company  with  which  Simba  marched  ar 
rived  about  dusk.  The  little  fires  were  beginning 
to  gleam,  and  the  reflections  shone  red  from  a 
forest  of  spears  planted  upright  in  the  ground. 


To  CONFERENCE  on  the  following  day  came 
Colonel  Falkeyne,  in  command  of  the  British 
Expedition,  together  with  his  staff,  his  escort,  and 
his  scouts.  Among  the  latter  was  a  man  named 
Culbertson,  on  whose  judgment  and  knowledge  of 
the  country  and  the  peoples  Colonel  Falkeyne 
placed  great  reliance.  When  the  little  force  came 
in  sight  of  the  immense  encampment  and  the 
forest  of  spears  twinkling  in  the  sun,  the  officer 
whistled  in  half  dismay. 

"But  this  is  an  army,  Culbertson!"  he  cried. 
"I'd  no  idea  they  mustered  so  many!" 


62  SIMBA 

"They  would  muster  a  good  many  more  than 
that,  were  they  all  here,"  replied  Culbertson 
carelessly.  "I  told  you  this  was  a  powerful 
people." 

"  Are  they  fighters?" 

"Listen,"  said  Culbertson,  "some  seven  or 
eight  years  ago  this  particular  section  of  the 
country  was  afflicted  with  a  combination  of 
drought  and  cattle  disease.  The  situation  was 
really  serious.  Famine  and  the  resultant  pestilence 
would  in  six  months  have  carried  off  half  the 
people.  But  these  people  would  not  wait  for  that. 
They  gathered  their  warriors — much  as  they  are 
gathered  now — and  divided  them  into  two  bands. 
They  'chose  up'  just  as  boys  'choose  up'  at  a 
game.  Then  they  went  out  to  a  flat  plain  below 
the  Nairobi  River.  The  women  and  the  remaining 
cattle  occupied  an  adjacent  hill,  swarms  of  them, 
like  flies  on  a  tent  ridge.  In  the  flat  below  the 
warriors  faced  each  other  in  two  long  parallel 
lines.  At  a  signal,  given  by  Leyeye,  they  set  to  it 
with  spear  and  shield.  They  fought  desperately 
until  Leyeye,  who  watched  from  a  near-by  knoll, 
gave  them  a  signal  to  stop.  Then  they  stopped 


WHITE    MAGIC  63 

immediately.  The  survivors  took  the  women  and 
cattle.  Thus  the  numbers  were  sufficiently  re 
duced  so  that  famine  was  averted." 

"By  Jove!  that  was  sporting,"  cried  the  officer. 
"Are  you  certain  it  happened?  Sounds  like  a 
native  tale." 

"I  saw  it,"  replied  Culbertson  simply.  "It  was 
exactly  as  I  describe.  I  visited  the  place  two 
years  later.  The  bones  were  a  good  deal  scattered 
by  hyenas,  of  course,  but  I  could  see  a  rough 
double  line  marked  by  the  white  skulls." 

"Didn't  they  care  for  the  dead?" 

"Not  in  this  case.  They  pulled  up  and  moved 
out,  and  have  never  been  back  since.  But  they'll 
fight!" 

"Looks  like  a  serious  job,"  said  Colonel  Fal- 
keyne  gravely.  "Are  we  safe  here  with  this  little 
force?" 

"Reasonably.  I  know  a  protected  place  for 
camp  near  water;  and  we  must  get  hostages  for  good 
conduct.  Old  Ley  eye  and  his  Elders  are  all  right, 
but  there's  a  lot  of  inflammable  material  here." 

Accordingly  they  pitched  their  camp  on  a  high, 
narrow,  rocky  point  extending  out  into  the  river. 


64  SIMBA 

About  a  third  of  the  distance  down  the  cliff  a 
trickle  of  water  oozed.  The  situation  was  ideal 
for  defense  as  it  could  be  approached  only  on  a 
narrow  front  and  from  one  side.  Tents  were 
erected,  sentinels  posted.  The  quiet  little  en 
campment  was  in  marked  contrast  to  the  savage 
gathering  of  thousands  over  the  way.  There 
hundreds  of  fires  gleamed,  drums  roared  or  beat 
in  syncopated  rhythm,  silhouetted  figures  flashed 
back  and  forth  before  the  blazes,  shrill  chants  rose 
and  died.  The  little  group  of  officers  smoking 
silently  before  the  largest  tent  gazed  across  at  this 
turmoil  of  activities  rather  anxiously.  Between 
them  and  the  distant  fires  the  black  figures  of 
sentinels  paced  slowly  back  and  forth. 

The  nearer  stillness  was  broken  by  the  moan  of 
a  hyena.  After  an  interval  it  was  twice  repeated. 

"Cheeky  beggar!"  commented  one  of  the 
younger  officers. 

But  Culbertson  had  raised  his  head  and  was 
listening.  From  the  same  quarter  now  came  the 
quickly  repeated  call  of  the  fever  owl. 

"Cazi  Moto!"  summoned  Culbertson. 

A  small,  black,  wizened  native  dressed  in  ragged 


WHITE    MAGIC  65 

garments  glided  to  his  side.  With  him  Culbert- 
•0:1  conversed  for  a  moment  in  low  tones.  Then 
Hie  native  disappeared  into  the  darkness.  Cul- 
bertson  lighted  another  pipe  and  settled  himself 
to  wait.  After  an  interval  Cazi  Moto  reappeared 
to  whisper  something  in  his  master's  ear.  Cul- 
bertson  nodded  and  arose. 

"Colonel  Falkeyne,  may  I  have  a  word  with 
you?"  he  requested. 

He  led  the  way  to  the  cliff's  edge  beyond  the 
camp.  There  in  the  darkness  of  a  great  rock  the 
officer  became  aware  of  a  mysterious  figure 
standing. 

The  dim  light  of  the  campfires  and  the  stars 
showed  it  to  be  a  man  of  immense  height.  Colonel 
Falkeyne  was  himself  but  just  under  six  feet, 
yet  the  stranger  stood  well  above  him.  He  was 
wrapped  closely  in  a  dark  robe  of  tanned  goat  skins 
and  apparently  was  denuded  of  all  ornament. 
In  his  mien  was  a  great  dignity. 

"This,"  said  Culbertson  in  a  guarded  voice, 
"is  Ley  eye  himself.  He  has  come  incognito  for 
a  private  conference.  It  must  not  be  known  that 
he  has  been  here." 


66  SIMBA 

"But  the  sentinels  I"  cried  Falkeyne. 

Culbertson  said  a  few  words  in  a  strange 
language.  The  tall  figure  chuckled  and  unex 
pectedly  spoke  in  Swahili. 

"I  came  by  your  sentinel  as  one  passes  a  blind 
man,"  he  said,  "and  I  shall  depart  in  the  same 
manner."  He  turned  to  Culbertson,  "Kingozi, 
let  us  go  where  we  can  talk  in  peace." 

Culbertson,  or  Kingozi  to  call  him  by  his  native 
name,  considered. 

"We  cannot  do  better  than  my  tent,"  he  de 
cided,  "Cazi  Moto  shall  hold  all  people  at  a 
distance." 

The  candle  lantern  in  the  tent  disclosed  the 
visitor  as  an  old  man,  a  fact  that  would  never  have 
been  suspected  from  the  erectness  of  his  carriage. 
His  face  was  seamed  with  many  lines  of  craft  and 
wisdom,  deep  carven  lines,  and  his  eyes  were 
tired.  He  seated  himself  with  dignity  and  threw 
aside  his  robe  to  reveal  his  bronze  body  with  the 
loosened  skin  of  the  aged.  When  he  spoke  Fal 
keyne  had  again  occasion  to  remark  the  husky  rich 
timbre  of  his  voice. 

"It  is  not  the  custom  of  Leyeye  to  run  about  at 


WHITE    MAGIC  67 

night,"  he  began,  "like  a  common  slave.  When 
he  travels  his  spears  are  as  the  leaves  of  the  grass 
about  him;  and  when  he  pays  visits  the  drums  are 
as  lions  and  the  trumpets  like  the  birds  that  wheel 
and  cry." 

"  Ley  eye  is  always  a  great  sultani,  whether  he 
comes  alone  or  attended,"  interjected  Kingozi. 

The  old  man  listened  attentively,  then  shifted 
his  eyes  to  Colonel  Falkeyne. 

"It  is  believing  that  this  man  is  also  a  great 
sultani  that  I  have  come  to-night.  I  am  glad  I 
have  come,"  he  said.  He  half  turned  on  his  seat, 
and  at  once  the  interview  became  a  dialogue  be 
tween  high  potentates,  with  Kingozi  only  an 
interested  spectator. 

"My  people  are  a  mighty  people,"  he  said. 
"My  young  men  are  trained  to  war.  Other 
nations  raise  crops  of  m'wembe  and  other  things; 
other  nations  trade  back  and  forth;  other  nations 
live  by  hunting  game.  That  is  well.  But  when 
they  have  harvested  their  m'wembe  and  made 
their  trades  and  killed  their  game,  then  my  young 
men  come  with  their  bright  spears,  and  all 
these  things  are  ours.  \Ve  know  but  two 


68  SIMBA 

things:  we  keep  herds,  we  make  war."  He 
turned  back  to  Culbertson.  "Do  you,  Kingozi 
my  brother,  tell  him  in  your  tongue  that  what  I 
say  is  true." 

"He  refers  to  the  strength  of  his  military  caste," 
said  Culbertson  in  English.  "It  comprises  prac 
tically  every  male  between  about  eighteen  and 
thirty.  They  have  a  certain  knowledge  of  tactics 
and  drill.  There's  no  doubt  they're  more  for 
midable  than  other  nations." 

"What  do  you  suppose  the  old  chap's  driving 
at — swank?"  asked  the  Colonel. 

" I  don't  think  so.     Give  him  his  head." 

Leyeye,  seeing  that  the  short  colloquy  was  over, 
resumed  his  talk. 

"My  people  are  afraid  of  nothing,"  he  went  on. 
"  They  hunt  the  lion  and  they  kill  him  with  spears. 
They  are  not  afraid  of  war.  They  are  not  afraid 
to  die.  They  are  not  afraid  of  you  nor  of  your 
guns  that  kill  like  thunder."  The  old  man's  form 
had  straightened  and  his  eyes  flashed.  Receiving 
no  comment  on  this  challenge,  he  went  on  more 
calmly:  "If  I  were  to  command  them,  they 
would  walk  up  to  your  guns  to  be  killed  one  by 


WHITE    MAGIC  69 

jne,  and  the  last  man  of  all  would  go  as  gladly  as 
the  first.  Unless  you  understand  this,  it  is  useless 
to  talk  more." 

"I  know  the  courage  of  your  people,"  said 
Falkeyne  simply. 

Leyeye  stared  him  in  the  eyes  for  some  moments. 

"Since  that  is  so,"  he  resumed  abruptly.  "I 
can  say  freely  what  is  in  my  heart.  I  have 
watched  the  war  with  the  Wakamba.  It  was  a 
good  war.  They  killed  many  of  your  young  men: 
and  you  killed  many  of  theirs.  The  Wakamba 
fight  well.  But  this  one  thing  I  have  noticed  in 
that  war:  when  a  Wakamba  was  killed  he  was 
dead;  but  when  one  of  your  young  men  was  killed 
two  more  came  to  take  his  place.  And  therefore 
I  say  to  you,  as  one  sultani  to  another  sidtani,  that 
if  we  make  war  we  shall  kill  very  many,  more  than 
even  the  Wakamba  did,  for  we  are  a  better  nation 
than  the  Wakamba:  but  also  you  will  kill  my 
young  men.  Why  should  we  fight?  We  desire 
pasture  for  cattle,  wide  plains  on  which  to  roam: 
you  wish  only  a  road.  Does  one  of  these  desires 
stand  in  the  way  of  the  other?  Why  should  no* 
each  have  his  wish?" 


70  SIMBA 

"But  the  man  is  a  statesman!"  cried  Falkeyne 
to  Culbertson. 

At  the  end  of  another  half  hour  Leyeye  arose  to 
depart. 

"It  is  then  understood.  To-morrow  you  must 
rest.  The  next  day  we  will  hold  shauri"  He 
offered  Falkeyne  the  native  sign  of  friendship, 
first  a  grasp  with  the  palm,  then  a  grasp  of  the 
thumb. 

"  Cannot  I  give  you  escort?  "  offered  Falkeyne. 

Leyeye's  austere  countenance  slightly  relaxed. 

"My  people  must  never  know  of  this  visit,"  he 
said.  "I  must  again  pass  your  sentinel — and 
mine,  which  is  more  difficult."  He  said  three 
words  to  Culbertson  in  the  strange  language,  and 
the  tent  flaps  fell  behind  him. 

"Old  chap  wants  a  private  conversation — with 
your  permission,"  murmured  Culbertson,  and 
followed. 

At  the  edge  of  the  cliff  he  overtook  the  tall 
figure  of  Leyeye. 

"My  brother,  Kingozi,"  said  the  latter,  "my 
heart  is  glad  that  this  bwana  is  a  great  leader  and 
is  willing  to  make  peace  without  fighting.  That 


WHITE    MAGIC  71 

is  best  for  all  peoples.  But  now  comes  the  difficult 
part.  My  young  men  are  hot  and  eager  for  war. 
My  mind  is  troubled  to  control  them." 

"You  suspect  that  your  command  will  not  be 
sufficient?"  asked  Kingozi. 

The  old  ruler  drew  himself  up. 

"My  command  would  be  sufficient,  as  always," 
he  replied  proudly.  "There  would  be  no  war. 
But  my  young  men's  hearts  will  still  be  hot  in 
their  breasts.  They  will  hover  about,  and  one 
day  they  will  kill  white  men,  and  then  it  will  be 


war." 


"What  is  your  plan?"  asked  Kingozi. 

"The  witch-doctors  of  all  the  villages  must  give 
the  omens  for  peace." 

"Will  they  not  do  so?" 

"They  will  do  so  if  I  command  them — and  pay 
them!" 

"Well?" 

"Here  is  the  trouble.  The  most  powerful 
witch-doctor  of  all,  the  man  with  most  magic 
and  knowledge,  the  man  to  whose  door  the  track 
is  worn  deepest  by  the  people,  lives  in  the  smallest 
village.  This  man  secretly  hates  me  and  will 


72  SIMBA 

oppose  anything  but  war.  His  voice  will  hearten 
those  who  will  make  private  raid  and  foray." 

"Why  does  he  hate  you,  O  sultani?" 

"Because  he  lives  in  the  smallest  village," 
replied  Leyeye  neatly,  "and  I  placed  him  there. " 

"I  shall  not  ask  the  history  of  this:  the  thing 
is  clear.  And  I?" 

"You  I  would  have  come  to  my  camps,  and  act 
between  me  and  this  man  in  the  manner  that 
seems  best  to  you." 

"Do  I  know  him?" 

"You  know  my  people,  you  know  the  hearts 
of  men,  0  Kingozi.  What  I,  the  sultani ,  could  not 
say  to  this  witch-doctor,  you  can  say  well." 

"What  words  do  I  say  to  him?" 

"That  is  for  you  to  decide." 

"If  I  were  to  offer  him  the  post  of  witch-doctor 
at  your  own  manyatta?"  Kingozi  suggested. 

"That  could  be  arranged." 

"But  the  man  who  is  at  present  witch-doctor: 
would  he  not  make  trouble,  use  his  magic  against 
you?" 

"That  could  be  arranged,"  repeated  Leyeye. 
"And,  Kingozi,  is  it  not  just  that  the  white  man 


WHITE    MAGIC  73 

should  pay  the  price  of  these  things,  if  war  is 
avoided?" 

"It  is  just,  0  Leyeye,"  cried  Kingozi  heartily, 
"and  I  shall  see  that  it  is  done,  but  see  you  for 
your  part  that  not  too  much  is  paid!"  he  warned. 

"Would  I  strengthen  unduly  the  enemies  of  my 
house?"  demanded  Leyeye  bitterly  as  he  gathered 
his  dark  robe  about  him. 

"Colonel  Falkeyne,"  said  Culbertson  reenter- 
ing  the  tent,  "I  have  unequivocally  committed 
you  to  certain  payments  which  we  will  call  a 
treaty  indemnity  for  entering  the  country  with 
out  opposition.  And  to-night  I  move  over  to  the 
native  camp.  Don't  be  alarmed  if  you  do  not 
hear  from  me  to-morrow." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Falkeyne  instantly.  "Is 
it  safe?" 

"Perfectly,"  replied  Culbertson,  but  he  knew  it 
was  not  safe. 

VI 

SHIMBO  the  witch-doctor  sat  before  the  highly 
ornamented  hut  he  had  caused  the  warriors  of  his 
village  to  erect  for  him.  In  this  great  gathering 


74  SIMBA 

were  witch-doctors  from  many  villages  and  the 
cities  of  Leyeye's  kingdom;  and  Shimbo  was 
resolved  that,  even  though  he  came  from  one  of 
the  smallest  outpost  hamlets,  he  should  not  show 
to  disadvantage.  He  sat  humped  over  a  little 
fire.  This  great  gathering  revived  old  memories 
and  rubbed  old  sores.  His  mind  cast  back  many 
years  to  the  time  when,  a  young  priest,  in  an  im 
portant  post  near  the  throne,  his  pride  had  induced 
him  to  put  himself  against  the  rising  power  of 
Leyeye.  He  had  been  broken  badly,  and  sent  to 
the  little  village  where  for  thirty  years  he  had 
lived  in  comparative  obscurity.  Becoming  aware 
of  a  presence  he  looked  up  to  see  a  white  man 
standing  before  him. 

He  recognized  the  white  man  perfectly  as  one 
who  had  eight  years  ago  come  to  the  village  from 
the  interior,  and  who  had  picturesquely  paid  his 
honga  or  entrance  tax  with  the  skin  of  a  lion  that 
had  attacked  the  royal  tax  collector.  The  visitor, 
undeterred  by  Shimbo's  cold  greeting,  at  once 
sat  down. 

"Jambo,  O  Shimbo,  greatest  of  muoims"  he 
said.  "Your  fame  has  sounded  in  my  ears  for  a 


WHITE    MAGIC  75 

long  time  past;  and  now  I  have  come  to  greet 
you  in  person." 

Shimbo's  red  eyes  shifted,  but  he  made  no 
answer.  The  white  man  motioned  to  his  wizened, 
wrinkled  servant  who  stood  near.  The  latter 
handed  his  master  a  cup  and  a  canteen. 

Kingozi  filled  the  cup  with  water.  He  passed 
his  hand  slowly  across  the  surface,  and  lo!  the 
clear  liquid  turned  a  dee^>  pink,  as  always  happens 
to  water  when  permanganate  crystals  are  dropped 
therein. 

"Hah!"  ejaculated  Shimbo  in  surprise. 

"Would  you  learn  that  magic?"  suggested 
Kingozi.  "I  will  teach  you." 

"N'gapi — how  much?"  grunted  Shimbo,  who 
should  know  the  ways  of  magicians. 

"It  is  nothing — a  gift  of  friendship,"  declaimed 
the  white  man.  "This  is  yours  for  the  asking — 
a  great  magic.  And  also  twenty  fat  cows,  and  a 
piebald  bull,  and  six  cases  of  the  white  man's 
tobacco,  and  enough  brass  wire  to  have  paid  an 
old-time  honga" 

Shimbo's  eyes  glistened.    This  was  great  wealth. 

"N'gapi"  he  repeated,  however. 


76  SIMBA 

"It  is  known,"  said  Kingozi,  "that  you  are 
the  greatest  of  all  muoiins.  The  wisdom  of  all 
the  others  is  as  the  light  of  the  stars  to  the  light 
of  the  sun.  When  one  of  these  others  raises  his 
voice  men  listen  and  then  inquire  whether  what 
they  hear  is  wise  and  true.  When  Shimbo  speaks 
men  say  at  once,  this  is  the  truth,  this  is  the  best 
thing  to  do." 

"What  is  it  you  want?"  insisted  Shimbo,  who 
was  too  old  and  experienced  for  illusions. 

"Peace,"  said  Kingozi,  repeating  the  sultan? s 
argument.  "The  white  man  desires  a  road;  your 
people  want  pasture.  One  does  not  interfere 
with  the  other." 

Shimbo  lost  interest. 

"Peace  is  in  the  hands  of  Leyeye,"  he  an 
swered. 

"Leyeye  wants  peace." 

"Let  him  then  declare  it,"  grunted  Shimbo. 

"His  people  want  war." 

"It  is  for  Leyeye  to  control  his  people,  not  for 


me." 


"If  the  muoiins  make  magic,  and  that  magic  is 
for  peace,  and  they  tell  the  people  that  all  omens 


WHITE    MAGIC  77 

are  for  peace,  then  the  commands  of  Leyeye  are 
made  easy." 

"Let  the  muoiins  make  magic,  and  see  what  it 
declares." 

"Twenty  fat  cows,  a  piebald  bull,  six  cases  of 
m'zungu  tobacco,  brass  wire  to  cover  a  war  spear, 
and  the  magic  of  turning  water  to  blood,"  com 
mented  Kingozi,  "and  the  magic  Shimbo  makes 
and  tells  to  the  other  muoiins  will  be  the  magic 
that  is  told  to  the  people." 

For  the  first  time  Shimbo  showed  real  anima 
tion. 

"Who  is  Shimbo?"  he  demanded  passionately. 
"An  old  man  near  to  die!  He  lives  in  a  village 
far  in  the  thorn  wilderness!  His  voice  reaches 
few.  He  has  neither  wealth  nor  honour!  His  hut 
is  humble,  his  wives  are  few,  his  slaves  are  none! 
Why  should  such  a  man  be  listened  to?  He  is 
not  one  who  speaks  to  the  people.  When  magic 
is  publicly  announced  such  as  Shimbo  must  sit 
silent  and  listen.  It  is  Munei,  the  chief  of  all 
witch-doctors,  who  dwells  at  the  manyatta  of 
Leyeye,  whose  riches  are  as  the  game  of  the  plains 
and  whose  slaves  are  as  the  leaves  of  grass." 


78  SIMBA 

"When  the  omens  of  peace  are  announced/5 
said  Kingozi,  playing  his  trump  card,  "it  shall  be 
Shimbo,  not  Munei,  who  shall  announce  them. 
He  shall  then  be  chief  of  all  witch-doctors;  and  he 
Shall  dwell  in  the  manyatta  of  Ley  eye." 

"The  wind  blows  through  the  branches/'  said 
Shimbo  after  a  pause. 

"Did  you  ever  know  a  white  man  to  lie?" 
"These  are  your  words:  are  they  also  the  words 
of  Ley  eye?" 

"Ley eye  himself  shall  say  them  to  you." 
Shortly  after  midnight  Kingozi  arose  rather 
stiffly.  At  last  the  deal  was  completed.  Shimbo 
had  agreed.  The  old  man  required  much  con 
vincing  before  he  would  believe  in  the  sincerity  of 
the  offer.  When  realization  came  to  him,  and 
he  understood  his  importance  in  the  situation,  he 
proceeded  to  drive  his  bargain.  But  at  length 
Kingozi  was  able  to  go  to  his  rest  assured  that  the 
invisible  gods  were  going  to  be  properly  manipu 
lated.  He  did  not  dare  return  to  the  white  man's 
camp,  nor  show  himself  here  too  prominently. 
Therefore,  under  the  guidance  of  Cazi  Moto,  he 
entered  one  of  the  better  native  shelters.  As  he 


WHITE    MAGIC  79 

had  often  been  in  like  case  before  he  slept  very 
soundly  until  morning. 

He  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  distant 
bugles,  and  looked  forth  in  time  to  see  the  flag 
rising  over  the  distant  camp.  The  native  war 
riors  were  already  astir;  and  as  Kingozi  looked 
about  at  the  thousands  of  determined  fierce 
countenances,  at  the  forests  of  spears  planted 
upright  in  the  ground,  he  congratulated  himself 
that  the  necessity  of  pressing  through  by  force 
was  passing. 

At  the  proper  hour  he  took  his  way  to  the  col 
lection  of  larger  shelters  where  Leyeye  and  his 
court  were  encamped.  A  light  palisade  sur 
rounded  them.  Gorgeously  panoplied  warriors 
leaned  against  this.  From  within  came  the 
sounds  of  women's  laughter.  Kingozi  entered 
the  gateway. 

The  first  person  of  consequence  he  encountered 
was  old  Shimbo  himself.  And  he  was  now  of  con 
siderable  consequence.  He  wore  a  new  and 
heavily  embroidered  tanned  robe,  and  was  at 
tended  by  four  slaves.  In  his  hand  he  carried 
the  carved  staff  of  his  new  high  office. 


8o  S I M  B  A 

"  Jambo,  0  Chief  of  all  muoiins!"  said  Kingozi. 

"Jambo,  bwana"  returned  Shimbo  with  great 
dignity.  He  seemed  about  to  pass,  then  turned 
back.  "The  magic  of  blood,  the  cattle,  the 
tobacco,  the  wire — they  are  not  forgotten?  " 

"They  are  not  forgotten/'  Kingozi  assured 
him.  "  And  you  have  made  magic  this  morning?  " 

"Yes,  Iwana." 

"It  was  good  magic." 

"It  was  magic  for  peace  between  the  white  man 
and  my  people,"  replied  Shimbo. 

Kingozi 's  interview  with  Ley  eye  was  equally 
satisfactory.  The  sultani  had  revealed  one  quali 
fication  of  leadership,  promptitude.  The  witch 
doctors  had  all  been  "seen."  Leyeye  presented 
a  bill  of  expenses  to  arouse  the  envy  of  a  Tammany 
leader  in  the  days  of  Tweed.  Kingozi  listened 
with  faint  dismay,  but  reflected  that  after  all 
this  was  cheaper  than  war  would  have  been. 
When  at  last  he  arose  to  depart  all  things  were 
planned  and  arranged.  There  remained  only  the 
trifling  detail  of  informing  the  people. 

"I  see  that  Shimbo  has  already  the  part  of 
muoiin  here,"  remarked  Kingozi  casually.  "How 


WHITE    MAGIC  81 

did  you  arrange  matters  with  Munei,  the  former 
head  mouiin? 

Leyeye  looked  him  blandly  in  the  eye. 

"It  was  too  bad:  Munei  had  the  bad  luck  to 
die  suddenly  in  the  night/'  he  replied. 

VII 

FOR  the  various  reasons  thus  fully  set  forth  it 
happened  that  Shimbo  did  not  return  to  the 
village;  that  Simba,  newly  made  warrior,  never 
theless  made  no  war;  that  to  this  day  there  has 
been  no  war  between  the  English  and  Ley  eye's 
people;  that  the  latter  still  continue  to  think 
themselves  free  and  unsubdued.  Since  thus  the 
office  of  witch-doctor  was  open  in  Shimbo 's 
village,  it  followed  naturally  that  Mukeku  took 
on  the  job.  This  left  his  office  of  headman  vacant. 
M'Kuni,  the  father  of  Simba,  being  the  wealthiest 
and  most  prominent  of  the  elders,  succeeded  as 
headman.  Then  Simba  became  the  son  of  a 
chief  instead  of  merely  one  among  many  warriors. 
For  a  time  that  had  little  bearing  on  anything 
but  Simba's  immediate  comfort  and  happiness: 
but  the  time  came — as  will  be  shown  in  another 


82  SIMBA 

story — when  the  fact  caused  him  to  be  chosen  for 
foreign  duty.   And  thence  many  consequences. 

All  of  which  is  the  same  the  world  over.  Great 
causes  producing  also  the  by-product  of  little 
results:  obscure  causes  arriving  eventually  at 
great  consequences.  Nations  moving  for  appar 
ently  the  sole  purpose  of  modifying  the  life- 
fate  of  some  insignificant  individual;  a  witch 
doctor  of  a  native  hamlet  deciding  the  fate  of 
races.  That  is  Politics. 


CHAPTER  III 
TRELAWNEY  LEARNS 

^BOUT  two  years  after  the  government 
occupation  of  a  certain  part  of  Africa  it 
was  considered  desirable  to  extend  the 
sphere  of  influence  to  include  a  remotely  out 
lying  district  that  had  heretofore  been  let  severely 
alone.  This  district  was  edged  by  the  mountain 
forests,  faced  by  the  foothills,  and  remote  from 
the  high  veldt — a  pleasant  land  full  of  waters  and 
green  grass.  Also  full  of  savages. 

The  latter  were  said  to  be  related  to  the  Samburu 
and  to  be  badly  disposed.  Since  it  was  impossible 
to  keep  ivory  hunters  and  Somali  caravans  from 
the  north  from  passing  through  on  the  most 
obvious  route,  the  next  best  thing  was  to  attempt 
some  sort  of  administration. 

The  higher  powers  were  at  their  wits'  ends.  The 
tribe,  and  their  affiliated  brethren,  numbered,  at 
a  guess,  something  like  a  million  and  a  half 

83 


84  SIMBA 

people;  and  they  had  any  amount  of  accustomed 
cover  in  which  to  hide. 

"Military  occupation!"  groaned  the  D.  C., 
quoting  his  instructions  from  Downing  Street,  "I 
wish  our  respected  Chief  knew  the  first  thing 
about  this  country!  It  would  take  a  solid  regi 
ment  to  occupy  that  district!  And  I  have  two 
battalions  of  native  troops  for  the  whole  blessed 
country!" 

"They  are  native  troops — but  they  are  the  K. 
A.  R.,"  the  Governor  reminded  him. 

"  Oh,  the  fuzzy-wuzzies  are  all  right,"  admitted 
the  Commissioner,  "but  they  are  too  few.  I 
can't  go  to  war  with  what  I  can  spare  from  two 
battalions,  and  that's  flat." 

"Well?"  queried  the  Governor  placidly.  He 
knew  his  commissioner. 

"And  the  Civil  Officers!  Fresh  from  Downing 
Street!  Know  the  native  as  a  friend  and  brother 
only!  Full  of  theory!  Conscientious  scruples 
against  corporal  punishment,  by  gad!  Or 
throat-full  with  twaddle  about  the  white  man's 
prestige!  Self-opinionated,  narrow,  insular,  hide 
bound " 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS         85 

"Best  of  our  blood:  wonderful  boys;  governing 
kingdoms  at  five  and  twenty,"  interrupted  the 
Governor,  still  placidly. 

"With  a  little  experience,  yes,  I  agree,"  said 
the  D.  C.,  "but  these  boys  have  none,  none 
whatever.  They  get  it  fast;  but  in  the  meantime, 
what?  It's  all  very  well  to  let  them  cut  their 
teeth  on  such  peoples  as  the  Kikuyus,  but  how 
about  the  Masai  or  these  Sukas?  To  handle  such 
a  touchy  situation  needs  a  man  of  experience,  or 
a  regiment  of  troops:  and  where  am  I  to  get 
either?  Better  let  sleeping  dogs  lie,  say  I.  Let 
'em  get  on  as  they  have  been  getting  on." 

"And  some  day  some  confounded  German  or 
Austrian  or  Belgian  will  get  scuppered  up  there, 
and  we'll  have  intervention  and  lose  the  shop," 
said  the  Governor. 

The  D.  C.  sat  bolt  upright,  his  hands  grasping 
strongly  the  arms  of  his  chair,  his  eyes  staring  out 
of  the  window. 

"Boy!"  he  called  smartly;  then  to  the  white- 
clad  servant  who  instantly  responded  he  issued 
a  rapid  order.  "I  caught  a  glimpse  of  just  our 
man,"  he  explained  to  the  Governor,  "I  am 


86  SIMBA 

stupid  not  to  have  thought  of  him  before.    He  is 
an  ivory  hunter  named  Culbertson." 

"The  man  the  natives  call  Kingozi?" 

"The  same.  He  has  been  in  this  part  of  the 
country  now  about  ten  years:  came  in  when  they 
paid  honga.  He  knows  natives  from  A  to  Zed, 
and  they  like  him.  If  he'll  only  take  on  the 
job " 

The  door  opened  to  admit  the  ivory  hunter, 
He  was  a  man  of  about  thirty,  broad  of  shoulders 
a  trifle  stooped,  with  wide-spaced  gray-blue  eyes 
a  square  forehead,  a  bushy  black  beard,  and  crisp, 
waving,  upstanding  hair. 

"Sit  down/'  the  D.  C.  invited  him,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  detail  his  troubles. 

"The  Suka,"  commented  the  ivory  hunter, 
"that's  the  crowd  that  lives  up  near  old  Saunder's 
hunting  country,  isn't  it?  " 

"They  seem  to  be  getting  restless,"  said  the 
D.  C. 

Kingozi  grinned. 

"Quite  likely.  That's  the  lot  that  fool  Gregory 
and  his  two  assistant  fools  went  and  shot  up  so 
extensively,  isn't  it?" 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS          87 

"What  was  that?"  interrupted  the  Governor. 

"Happened  four  years  ago,"  explained  the  D.  C. 
with  a  slight  embarrassment.  "Before  we  took 
over.  These  people  were  new  to  the  country  and 
went  up  there  hunting.  They  became  frightened 
over  some  of  the  usual  nigger  foolishness,  and 
started  shooting  and  fighting  their  way  out. 
Wrote  a  book  about  it — quite  exciting." 

"Oh,  that— yes." 

"Silly  rot,"  commented  Kingozi,  "Great  heroes! 
Fought  a  rear-guard  action.  Potted  'em  at  three 
hundred  when  they  showed  their  faces.  Kept 
their  heads  they'd  have  had  no  trouble  at  all. 
Sukas  wonder  yet  what  it  was  all  about.  But, 
as  you  say,  they  are  restless!" 

"Well,  we've  got  to  make  that  country  safe; 
and  we  want  you  to  take  on  the  job,"  said  the 
D.  C.  bluntly. 

"Who,  me?  Not!"  said  Kingozi.  "I'm  no 
officer  of  the  government  and  never  will  be  as 
long  as  you  get  your  marching  orders  from  some 
old  granny  in  Downing  Street  who  thinks  that  all 
Africa  is  a  dense  jungle  full  of  fevers  and  monkeys. 
Me,  I  boss  myself." 


88  S I M  B  A 

But  the  Governor  had  not  been  made  governor 
merely  because  he  took  a  good  photograph.  He 
interposed  and  talked  British  Empire  until  Kingozi 
wilted. 

"If  I  take  on  the  job,  do  I  do  it  my  way?"  he 
asked  abruptly. 

"Certainly." 

"Absolute  free  hand?" 

"It  is  yours." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I  won't 
consider  an  official  position.  None  of  your  oaths 
and  salaries  for  me.  But  I  will  go.  You  pick 
out  a  nice,  chubby,  red-cheeked,  bah- Jove  young 
ster,  fresh  from  England,  and  give  him  the  job. 
I'll  go  along  and  coach  him.  When  I  get  through 
— if  we  have  any  luck — we'll  have  those  Sukas 
nicely  tamed;  and  we'll  have  an  educated  District 
Commissioner  to  keep  up  the  good  work.  And  I 
can  quit  and  go  about  my  business." 

"Excellent!"  cried  the  Governor  and'  the  D.  C. 
in  a  breath. 

"But  I  want  it  understood  that  I  spank  this 
youth  and  make  him  stand  in  a  corner  if  he  doesn't 
obey  orders!"  warned  Kingozi.  "I  don't  want 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS         89 

any  back  talk,  or  questioning  of  methods,  or  his 
own  initiative,  or  any  of  that  rot.  And  no  atten 
tion  paid  to  his  reports  if  he  has  the  nerve  to 
make  them.  I  know  the  festive  native,  and  I'll 
handle  him  my  own  way  or  not  at  all.  Under 
stood?" 

"Understood," 

"Very  well.  Pick  out  your  youngster.  And 
the  more  he  is  for  God  and  Old  England,  Britons 
never  shall  be  slaves,  no  gentleman  would  ever 
think  of  it,  and  all  the  rest  of  that,  the  better  it 
will  suit.  I  want  him  to  play  golf;  and  dress  for 
dinner;  and  perish  for  his  tea;  and  be  unwilling 
to  pot  a  meal  off  sitting  guineas  because  it  isn't 
sporting;  and  to  perish  miserably  if  he  hasn't  got 
on  the  right  sort  of  breeches  when  he  shoots  kon- 
goni;  and  if  it  isn't  done,  you  know,  that  settles 
it.  Got  such  a  specimen?" 

The  Governor  and  his  D.  C.  laughed. 

"Imported  for  the  purpose.  Young  Tre- 
lawney  will  just  fill  your  bill." 

"Trelawney,"  repeated  the  ivory  hunter, 
"Christian  name  isn't  Percy?"  he  inquired  hope 
fully. 


90  SIMBA 

II 

THE  Government  of  the  Empire  moved  up  into 
the  Suka  country  the  following  week.  It  con 
sisted  practically  of  three  detachments,  although 
they  were  much  intermingled.  There  was  one 
consisting  of  a  wizened  little  black  native  dressed 
in  faded  khaki  and  lugging  a  worn  double  rifle; 
two  porters  carrying  a  brace  of  officers'  battered 
tin  boxes;  two  more  with  a  decidedly  second 
hand  green  tent;  and  a  miscellaneous  half  dozen 
bearing  queer  old  bundles  apparently  on  their 
way  to  a  rummage  sale.  Then  another,  larger 
group,  swinging  proudly  along  beneath  an  elabo 
rate  new  outfit — four-men  tent,  eight  tin  boxes, 
three  loads  of  ammunition,  a  patent  bath,  much 
new  yellow  leather.  Also  two  men  with  three 
new  guns.  The  third  detachment  was  the  foun 
dation  of  the  other  two,  and  transported  food 
both  white  and  native.  Six  straight,  soldierly 
Sudanese,  carrying  their  well-polished  old  Snider 
muskets  at  a  military  angle,  marched  in  the,  rear. 
Six  was  all  he  required,  so  Kingozi  said. 

Kingozi  had  retired  behind  an  impenetrable 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS         91 

reserve  and  a  short  black  pipe  that  burned  peri 
lously  close  to  his  beard.  But  his  eyes  moved 
observantly  from  one  item  to  another.  They 
rested  with  apparently  a  deep  and  amused  satis 
faction  on  two  things:  one  was  a  bag  of  golf  clubs; 
the  other  was  their  owner. 

Trelawney  was  a  red-cheeked,  clear-eyed 
youth,  with  the  smallest  imaginable  moustache; 
very  young  but  concealing  the  fact  well;  com 
pletely  equipped  with  ideas  but  incoherent  in  their 
expression;  secretly  aquiver  with  an  enthusiasm 
it  would  have  killed  him  of  mortification  to  have 
acknowledged.  He  had  brought  his  entire  out 
fit  from  Piccadilly  and  the  Haymarket,  and  as  a 
consequence  greatly  resembled  advertisements. 
Withal,  as  Kingozi  had  discovered,  at  heart  a 
modest  and  diffident  youth  beneath  all  his  upper- 
class  assurance,  so  Kingozi's  heart  warmed  to  him. 

The  boy  was  naturally  vastly  excited.  He  was 
going  direct  from  the  sheltered  life  of  his  island 
not  only  into  Africa,  but  into  a  part  of  Africa  so 
remote  that  heretofore  it  had  been  visited — and 
that  but  rarely — by  professional  ivory  hunters 
only!  He  was  going  into  the  great  game  country 


92  S I M  B  A 

where  one  lived  by  one's  rifle  and  where  rhinoceros 
and  giraffe  and  lion  were  matters  of  everyday! 
He  was  venturing  among  heretofore  untamed 
savages,  charged  with  the  mission — at  his  age — 
of  governing  a  kingdom!  And  best  of  all  he  was 
going  in  the  company  of  the  celebrated  Culbert- 
son,  the  best-known  hunter  in  Africa;  Culbertson 
who  had  gone  right  across  the  continent  with  no 
resources  but  his  wits  and  his  weapons;  Culbert 
son  who  had  shot  more  elephants  than  he,  Trelaw- 
ney,  ever  hoped  to  see;  Culbertson,  who  in  the 
distance  had  loomed  across  the  imagination  like  a 
legend,  and  whose  inscrutability  at  close  range 
had  only  added  to  his  attraction!  No  wonder 
Trelawney  had  to  look  rather  extraordinarily 
bored  to  conceal  his  feelings. 

Every  small,  accustomed  detail  of  safari  life  was 
wonderful — the  making  and  breaking  of  camp, 
the  method  of  march,  the  discipline,  the  peoples 
passed  on  the  road,  the  wide,  wild  vast  scenery, 
the  birds,  the  monkeys,  the  "things  that  jump 
up  as  you  pass,"  and  especially  the  game  herds. 
Never  had  Trelawney  seen  so  many  wild  animals; 
never  had  he  dreamed  that  so  many  existed.  He 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS          93 

tried  to  identify  them  with  his.  confused  book 
recollections;  his  finger  itched  for  the  trigger;  his 
hunter's  soul  strained  at  the  leash.  But  he  did 
not  know  whether  it  was  done,  you  know;  so  he 
inhibited  that  desire  also,  and  trudged  on  long 
ingly. 

The  celebrated  ivory  hunter  seemed  a  taciturn 
sort.  He  smoked  his  black  pipe,  and  slouched 
along,  and  apparently  saw  nothing.  It  was  three 
hours  before  he  spoke  at  all,  and  then  only  to 
proffer  a  most  extraordinary  question.  He  re 
moved  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  asked  abruptly: 

"Is  your  given  name  Percy? " 

"Why,  no.  Did  you  know  of  a  Trelawney  by 
the  name  of  Percy?  Mine  is  Allan." 

"Sorry,"  said  this  extraordinary  man  with  an 
air  of  regret.  And  now  what  could  he  mean  by 
that? 

The  journey  consumed  three  weeks.  By  the 
end  of  that  time  Trelawney  had  begun  an  in 
cursion  into  the  Swahili  language;  he  had  shot 
considerable  game  for  camp;  he  had  unconsciously 
absorbed  a  few  ideas;  and  he  had  begun  to  consider 
himself  quite  an  old-timer.  But  he  had  not  got 


94  SIMBA 

much  further  with  his  companion.  Kingozi 
seemed  entirely  sufficient  to  himself .  He  was  not 
unfriendly — quite  to  the  contrary — but  he  ap 
peared  absorbed  in  an  inner  life.  At  times  he 
carried  on  long  talks  with  the  wizened  black  man 
whom  Trelawney  learned  to  call  Cazi  Moto,  but 
in  Swahili.  Culbertson's  idea  of  human  inter 
course  seemed  to  be  the  sociable  silence. 

Ill 

THEY  arrived  and  selected  a  location  for  a  post 
and  at  once  started  the  hundred-odd  porters  they 
had  brought  with  them  to  building.  The  location 
was  a  wide  opening  of  a  hundred  acres  or  so  at  the 
fringe  of  the  forest.  It  looked  out  through  a 
panelling  of  scattered  trees  far  abroad  over  the 
veldt.  A  stream  of  clear  water  ran  through  it; 
and  the  grass  at  this  elevation  was  green. 

Under  Cazi  Moto's  supervision  and  Kingozi's 
inspection  the  porters  built  first  of  all  a  tremen 
dous  circular  house  with  a  high,  conical  roof. 
The  frame  was  of  poles,  the  walls  of  papyrus  stalks, 
and  the  roof  thatch  of  grass.  It  had  three  win 
dows,  without  glass,  but  capable  of  being  closed  by 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS         95 

white  cotton  cloth;  and  a  wide  door.  The  camp 
cots  were  arranged  on  one  side;  a  table  was  built 
for  the  other,  together  with  canvas  chairs;  shelves 
were  fastened  to  the  wall.  A  lamp  and  its  at 
tendant  tin  of  precious  paraffin  oil  were  installed. 

Opposite  these  administrative  quarters  were  five 
well-built  smaller  huts.  In  two  rlwelt  the  askaris, 
as  the  Sudanese  troops  were  called.  The  others 
were  given  to  Cazi  Moto,  theJwo  gunbearers,  the 
two  personal  boys,  and  the  cdok.  In  the  centre  of 
the  square  thus  formed  was  erected  a  peeled  flag 
pole  with  halliards,  and  when  everything  was 
completed  Kingozi  caused  a  parade  of  all  the  men. 
They  stood  in  lines,  while  the  flag  was  bent  on. 
And  then  as  it  fluttered  aloft,  the  askaris  fired  a 
fine,  resounding,  smoky  black-powder  salute  with 
their  Sniders.  Trelawney,  very  erect,  stood  fin 
gers  to  helmet,  his  mind  singing  with  high  thoughts 
as  to  the  extension  of  the  empire,  outposts  of 
civilization  and  the  like,  and  he  offered  up  a  little 
prayer — though  he  would  not  have  so  considered 
it — that  he  might  be  worthy. 

And  after  all  these  things  were  done,  the 
hundred-odd  porters  shouldered  their  meagre 


96  SIMBA 

effects,  and  the  forest  closed  behind  them.  The 
two  white  men  with  their  dozen  attendants  were 
alone  among  millions  of  savages.  Trelawney 
was  horrified  to  discover  in  himself  the  least 
tremor  of  regret  as  the  last  of  that  sturdy  file 
disappeared. 

"There's  a  lot  of  work  could  be  done  here/'  he 
suggested.  "Those  chaps  could  be  very  useful.' ' 
•  "There's  a  horde  of  other  men  hereabouts," 
said  Kingozi. 

"But  will  they  work  for  us?" 

"That's  the  very  first  thing  we  must  get  them 
to  do,"  said  Kingozi. 

Up  to  this  time  Kingozi  had  paid  no  attention 
whatever  to  the  inhabitants.  The  latter  had 
hovered,  had  ventured  cautiously  into  the  out 
skirts  of  the  clearing,  had  even  opened  conver 
sations  with  some  of  the  men.  None  had  ap 
proached  the  white  men,  and  no  women  nor 
children  had  appeared.  But  when  the  safari  men 
had  been  safely  dispatched,  Kingozi  removed  his 
short  black  pipe  long  enough  to  ask: 

"Well,  time  to  get  in  touch  with  these  people. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  now?" 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS         97 

Trelawney  stared  at  him  with  dismayed  amaze 
ment.  Both  the  Governor  and  the  D.  C.  had 
been  very  explicit  as  to  the  status.  The  ivory 
hunter  was  to  have  actual  charge;  he,  Trelawney, 
was  to  be  merely  the  figurehead,  but  at  the  same 
time  was  to  learn  as  much  as  he  could. 

"But  that  is  just  what  I  am  going  to  ask  you!" 
he  cried. 

Kingozi  shook  his  head. 

"You're  in  charge  here;  and  you're  responsible," 
said  he. 

"But  I  suppose "  cried  Trelawney;  then  he 

threw  back  his  head.  "Very  well,"  he  said 
curtly.  "But  this  is  all  new  to  me." 

Kingozi  laid  his  hand  on  the  young  fellow's 
knee. 

"That's  the  spirit,"  he  said  kindly.  "Do  your 
duty:  and  I'll  try  to  see  you  don't  go  far  wrong. 
What  first?" 

"Well,"  said  Trelawney  doubtfully,  "I  suppose 
we'd  better  go  direct  to  headquarters.  I  think  I 
shall  summon  the  King  to  an  interview." 

"Should  not  you  go  to  see  him?" 

"Should  I?" 


98  SIMBA 

"I'm  not  suggesting;  Fm  asking  your  opinion." 

"In  that  case,"  Trelawney  mused — "hang  it 

all!    I'm   so   new  at  this!    Well,  I  should   say 

it  would  impress  him  more  to  come  and  see 


me." 


"No  question  of  that.  But  if  he  sends  an 
official  instead?" 

Trelawney's  idea  was  developing. 

"No  others  need  apply.  I'd  have  Cazi  Moto 
give  him  a  present  and  send  him  back." 

"And  if  the  King  refused  to  come?" 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Trelawney  frankly. 
"But  I  think  he  would.  If  he  didn't  I  suppose  I 
could  think  of  some  scheme  to  see  the  old  bounder: 
or  else  I'd  refuse  to  do  anything  but  play  with 
my  own  dolls  for  awhile  or  something." 

"And  if  that  annoyed  him  and  he  sent  over  to 
have  us  speared?" 

"I  suppose  that's  the  chance  we  are  taking, 
isn't  it?"  asked  Trelawney  simply. 

They  smoked  for  a  time. 

"Am  I  right?"  asked  the  young  man  at 
last 

"Try  it  and  see,"  replied  Kingozi. 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS         99 

IV 

THE  King  was  summoned;  he  sent  his  Prime 
Minister,  who  was  politely  received  by  Cazi  Moto, 
denied  a  sight  of  the  Bwana  M'Kubwa,  given  a 
drink  of  sweetened  coffee,  enriched  with  a  small 
present,  and  returned  right  side  up  with  care. 
He  carried  with  him,  also  by  instructions,  that 
one  of  the  white  men  was  no  less  a  personage 
than  the  celebrated  Bwana  Kingozi,  Fighter  of 
Elephants;  but  that  Bwana  Kingozi  was  like  the 
visitor,  a  satellite  to  the  real  lord  who  was  Bwana 
Marefu.  Marefu  was  the  name  already  bestowed 
on  Trelawney  by  the  natives.  And  by  this 
measure  of  values  could  be  guessed  the  importance 
of  Bwana  Marefu. 

For  the  reason  that  his  curiosity  was  thus 
strongly  aroused  the  King  made  his  visit.  It  was 
a  tremendous  occasion  with  elements  of  throngs 
of  gorgeous  spearmen,  numerous  young  women 
decked  in  cowries,  files  of  slaves  bearing  gifts  of 
firewood  and  milk,  the  beating  of  drums,  clash 
of  weapons,  blowing  of  horns,  and  such  a  riot  of 
savage  noise  and  colour  that  Trelawney  was 


ioo  SIMBA 

thrilled  with  the  barbaric  romance  of  it.  He 
fortunately  knew  what  to  do  because  he  remem 
bered  Culbertson's  incidentally  mentioning  the 
procedure  in  the  course  of  some  anecdote.  And 
Kingozi,  sitting  by,  saw  that  his  ingeniously 
planted  instructions  had  been  remembered. 

Trelawney,  with  great  dignity,  touched  the 
gifts,  indicating  acceptance;  he  shook  hands 
with  the  thumb  grasp  of  friendship;  he  then 
entered  into  high  converse — through  Kingozi  and 
Cazi  Mo  to — with  his  majesty.  He  felt  rather  an 
ass,  sitting  in  his  canvas  chair  acting  as  though 
he  were  the  whole  thing  while  old  Culbertson, 
older,  wiser,  greater,  more  experienced  in  every 
way,  stood  back  of  his  chair  like  a  servant!  He 
flushed,  wondering  if  Culbertson  thought  him  a 
cocky  little  bounder.  Then  he  caught  sight  of 
the  flag  above  him,  and  into  his  heart  came  as 
surance.  He  was  not  merely  Trelawney:  he  was 
the  Empire. 

He  had  given  considerable  thought  to  his 
opening  speech  with  M  'Booley,  which  was  briefly 
to  the  effect  that  he  had  been  sent  by  the  King  of 
the  Inglishe  to  bring  justice  and  happiness  to 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS        101 

this  remote  corner  of  his  realm;  that  he  relied  upon 
M'Booley  as  a  loyal  subject  to  obey;  that  back  of 
him  was  the  might  of  Britain;  and  he  trusted 
they  would  live  together  as  brothers.  To  this 
Kingozi,  who  was  to  act  as  interpreter,  listened 
with  attention.  Then  he  spoke  to  M'Booley  in 
Swahili  as  follows: 

"This  Bwana  M'Kubwa  has  come  to  rule  you. 
He  commands  you  bring  him  food  and  firewood. 
He  tells  you  to  remember  the  War  against  the 
Wakamba.  He  says  to  issue  orders  among  your 
peoples  that  wars  and  spearings  must  cease.  He 
promises  you  that  he  will  allow  no  white  man  and 
no  Somali  to  steal  from  the  people.  He  says 
that  the  people  must  bring  their  quarrels  to  him 
and  he  will  judge  them.  He  says  that  he  comes  as 
a  friend,  but  that  in  case  of  necessity  he  can 
strike  heavily." 

M'Booley  glanced  around  him. 

"These  are  big  words,  papa,"  he  commented, 
"and  a  light  runga*  with  which  to  strike  heavily." 

"  They  are  true  words,"  replied  Kingozi  haughtily, 
"and  the  runga  is  too  heavy  to  carry  here  unless 


102  SIMBA 

there  is  need  for  it.  Remember  the  wisdom  of 
Ley  eye  who  made  peace  without  war." 

M'Booley  glanced  around  him,  and  rose. 

"Tell  the  Bwana  M'Kubwa  qua  heri,"  he  said 
enigmatically. 

"He  says  he  is  gratified  to  say  good-bye," 
Kingozi  told  the  boy. 

"How  did  he  take  my  talk?"  asked  Trelaw- 
ney. 

"I  think  he  was  quite  impressed,"  replied 
Kingozi  gravely. 

Immediately  they  sent  presents  of  considerable 
value,  and  sat  down  to  await  results.  Kingozi  had 
the  place  cleared  of  natives  and  kept  clear. 
Guards  were  stationed  at  night,  and  either  Cazi 
Moto  or  his  master  was  constantly  afoot.  In  the 
mysterious  night-ridden  forest  drums  throbbed. 
An  uninterrupted  wailing  chant  rose.  All  about 
the  tiny  clearing  its  dwellers  felt  the  unseen 
presence  of  thousands.  Yet  not  a  single  human 
being  showed  himself.  Then  on  the  evening  of 
the  third  day  a  single  wrinkled  old  hag  crept  into 
the  open  and  approached  the  spot  where  the  two 
white  men  were  sitting.  She  knelt  humbly  before 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS        103 

them  and  fumbling  beneath  her  goat-skin  robe  she 
produced  a  little  half-gourd  containing  a  few 
ounces  of  m'wembe  meal. 

"Take,  bwana"  she  said. 

Kingozi  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief. 

"It  is  to  be  peace,"  he  said. 


FOR  a  month  nothing  much  happened.  Tre- 
lawney  began  to  get  impatient  at  the  slowness 
with  which  affairs  moved.  The  white  men 
seemed  to  be  tolerated  but  not  accepted.  In  their 
own  little  circle  they  were  supreme,  but  outside  of 
it  moved  a  swarming  life  whose  meaning  was 
concealed  from  them.  The  native  women  brought 
in  food  and  firewood  for  which  they  were  paid  in 
beads.  Men  lounged  about  curiously,  or  squatted 
by  the  hour.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  Trelawney 
cared  to  visit  any  of  the  villages  he  could  do  so, 
wandering  as  he  pleased  among  the  huts,  unmo 
lested  but  unwelcome. 

"I  don't  see  what  we  are  accomplishing  here," 
he  said  impatiently  to  Kingozi.  "We  are  suffered 
to^  administer  justice  and  establish  the  pax  Bri- 


104  SIMBA 

tannica,  but  they  could  all  cut  their  throats  out 
there,  and  we  none  the  wiser." 

"What  do  you  want  to  do?"  inquired  Kingozi. 
"I  don't  know.    But  I  feel  useless." 
"They  are  getting  accustomed  to  us;  that's 
enough.     In  the  meantime,  you're  getting  some 
shooting;  you're  getting  quite  a  bit  of  Swahili: 
and  I  suppose  you're  learning  at  least  a  little 
something.    What?" 

"There  are  ten  different  tribes  in  this  mess,  and 
that's  all  I  know.    They  have  chiefs,  or  kings,  or 
sultans  of  their  own,  but  not  one  has  come  in, 
and  I  wouldn't  know  where  to  find    them.     I 
feel  helpless.    I  wish  I  had  some  hold  on  them." 
"Like  hostages  in  war  time." 
"Precisely.    But  we're  not  at  war." 
"  Some  scheme  to  make  being  a  hostage  a  desir 
able  thing." 

"Might  feed  and  pay  a  few  select  ones." 
"Perhaps  adding  to  that  a  little  nigger  glory 
to  make  the  job  especially  attractive.    Of  course 
a  real  hostage  must  be  of  the  better  class." 

And  in  half  an  hour  Trelawney  was  possessed 
of  a  fully-developed  idea  which  he  was  honestly 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS        105 

convinced  was  original  with  himself.    In    time 
it  was  carried  into  effect. 

Trelawney  organized  for  the  majesty  of  the 
British  Empire  as  represented  in  his  person  a  body 
guard  composed  of  the  eldest  sons  of  each  of  the 
sultanis  of  the  Suka  nation.  These  youths  were 
given  separate  quarters.  Never  did  Trelawney  stir 
abroad  without  this  escort.  Each  young  man  was 
encouraged  to  panoply  himself  as  elaborately  as 
possible;  and  emulation  was  skillfully  encouraged 
by  wise  old  Cazi  Moto.  Each  for  the  honour  of 
his  tribelet  got  himself  up  with  the  utmost  in 
ostrich  plume,  keen  and  glittering  spear,  gaudily 
painted  buffalo  hide  shield,  wealth  of  jewelery  and 
ornament,  and  imaginative  pictorial  treatment  of 
his  own  cuticle.  Probably  ten  more  picturesquely 
gorgeous  savages  were  never  before  gathered 
together  in  one  band.  They  trailed  Trelawney  two 
by  two,  looking  tremendously  haughty  and  aloof, 
and  they  were  bitterly  envied. 

In  Trelawney's  mind  the  original  idea  rapidly 
developed.  He  added  small  details.  The  body 
guard  paraded  solemnly,  morning  and  evening,  to 
raise  and  lower  the  flag;  and  when  the  flag  was 


io6  SIMBA 

down  they  zealously  cleared  the  natives  out. 
Their  duties  were  made  light  but  very  showy  and 
important.  One  of  them  was  the  bearing  of 
messages,  either  to  the  natives  round  about,  or 
to  the  seat  of  government.  In  order  to  distinguish 
them  in  the  performance  of  this  task  Trelawney 
had  them  wind  a  narrow  band  of  red  cloth 
about  half  way  up  the  spear  blade.  It  was  the 
badge  of  the  messenger;  and  all  the  people  were 
instructed  to  feed  him  and  to  otherwise  expedite 
his  journey.  This  and  a  dozen  other  similar  bits 
of  ostentation  Trelawney  invented  with  the  secret 
zest  of  a  small  boy. 

"Seems  silly,"  he  told  Kingozi  in  half  apology, 
"awful  lot  of  side.  But  side  gets  these  beggars. 
And  it  holds  them  all  together.  Any  of  these 
tribes  is  bound  to  back  up  its  crown  prince,  now 
isn't  it?  " 

But  while  indubitably  this  diplomacy  was 
effective  in  obtaining  tolerance  for  the  little 
community,  it  accomplished  nothing  toward  closer 
relations.  Again  guided  by  Kingozi' s  skillful  and 
apparently  casual  suggestions,  Trelawney  had 
formulated  his  immediate  needs  as  three.  The 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS        107 

first,  that  of  peaceful  relations,  was  already 
accomplished.  On  the  second,  that  of  adminis 
tration  of  justice,  not  even  a  start  had  been  made. 
The  third,  that  of  voluntary  labour,  was  so  far  in 
the  future  as  to  remain  completely  below  the 
mental  horizon.  The  only  work  done  anywhere 
was  by  the  women; and  they  seemed  fully  occupied. 
The  whole  subject  seemed  ungraspable,  like  a 
smooth  ball  too  large  for  the  hand.  Nothing  was 
to  be  done  save  await  what  chance  might  bring. 
Trelawney  fretted;  but  Kingozi,  knowing  his 
Africa,  smoked  his  little  pipe  philosophically. 

"Something  always  turns  up  in  this  country/' 
he  said,  "it's  the  only  generalization  that  is  worth 
anything  out  here." 

Something  did  turn  up.  From  time  past 
memory  of  man — which  in  Africa  does  not  mean 
as  long  as  it  sounds — the  Somalis  with  horses 
for  sale  had  travelled  across  Jubaland  to  East 
Africa.  This  led  them  through  one  comer  of 
the  Suka  country.  It  was  a  lower  corner  in  an 
arid  region,  not  inhabited,  so  nobody  cared. 
But  in  the  third  month  of  Trelawney's  occupancy, 
owing  to  a  freak  rain  that  turned  the  arid  belt 


io8  SIMBA 

into  a  mire,  a  Somali  caravan  swung  north.  It 
camped  overnight  at  the  edge  of  the  forest.  Then 
it  moved  on.  The  following  morning,  investigating 
the  cause  of  much  drum-banging  excitement,  Tre- 
lawney  was  told  eight  different  tales.  They  had 
only  one  common  basis,  and  that  was  outrage  by 
Somalis.  The  outrage  varied  from  simple  loot  to 
arson,  kidnapping,  and  rape. 

"  Probably  stole  a  dozen  chickens,"  said  Kingozi. 
"But  that  is  not  the  point.  The  real  point  is  that 
this  lot  is  arming  to  attack  those  Somalis.  What 
are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  " 

"Aren't  you  going  to  advise?" 

"No;  but  I'll  tell  you  this  much,  that  I  see 
here  the  big  opportunity.  Think  it  over  five 
minutes,  and  I'll  go  break  out  a  little  ammunition 
— for  one  purpose  or  another." 

Pondering  the  last  phrase  Trelawney  came  to  the 
proper  conclusion  with  a  celerity  that  would  have 
been  impossible  to  his  former  insularity. 

He  ordered  out  his  gorgeous  bodyguard  and  his 
six  askaris  with  their  Snider  muskets.  He  armed 
Cazi  Moto,  the  two  gunbearers,  even  the  personal 
boys,  and  the  cook.  At  the  head  of  this  small 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS        109 

army  he  went  in  search  of  Kingozi.  The  latter 
looked  up  from  his  cartridge  cases. 

"Going  to  smash  the  entire  Suka  nation?"  he 
inquired. 

"No;  but  I  am  going  to  arrest  a  small  portion 
of  the  Somali  nation,"  Trelawney  replied. 

"Good  boy!"  cried  Kingozi,  "I  apologize  for 
the 'Percy.'" 

VI 

THEY  debouched  from  the  forest  to  find  M  'Boo- 
ley's  village  a  seething  turmoil.  Armed  men  were 
rushing  here  and  there;  voluble  women  were 
shrieking.  Inextricable  confusion.  But  at  the 
appearance  of  Trelawney's  little  force  the  women 
precipitately  disappeared.  The  men,  seizing  their 
shields,  followed.  The  village  clearing  was  empty, 
but  in  the  edge  of  the  forest  weapons  glittered  and 
dark  bodies  glided.  In  vain  Trelawney  shouted 
encouraging  words.  No  voice  answered. 

He  looked  perplexedly  at  his  followers.  This  was 
something  he  had  not  anticipated.  Kingozi  was 
watching  him  keenly. 

From  the  ranks  of  the  bodyguard  a  young 


no  SIMBA 

man  stepped  forward.  He  was  a  very  ugly  young 
man,  but  something  engaging,  straightforward,  and 
honest  shone  from  his  uncomely  face. 

"Bwana  would  have  shauri*  with  M'Booley?" 
he  asked. 

"Yes,"  replied  Trelawney. 

Without  further  speech  the  young  man  turned, 
walked  steadily  across  the  opening,  and  dis 
appeared  in  the  forest. 

"By  Jove!"  cried  Kingozi,  "I  didn't  suppose 
any  raw  native  had  it  in  him!" 

"What?"  asked  Trelawney. 

"Pluck;  sheer  pluck." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"There's  about  nine  chances  out  of  ten  he's 
speared  before  he  opens  his  face." 

"Oh,  surely  not!  One  of  their  own  people:  a 
chiefs  son!" 

"I  know  natives,"  said  Kingozi  curtly. 

A  long  period  of  uneasiness  during  which  Kin 
gozi,  his  rifle  across  the  crook  of  his  elbow,  half 
turned  to  keep  his  eyes  on  the  rest  of  the  ornate 
bodyguard.  At  last  figures  appeared.  M'Boo- 

*Shauri— Council,  Talk. 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS        in 

ley  was  discovered  accompanied  by  half  a  hundred 
of  his  warriors — and  the  bold  messenger. 

M'Booley  was  sullen  and  suspicious,  but  Tre- 
lawney  plunged  at  once  into  his  subject. 

"O  King/'  he  said,  "I  go  with  my  men  to  take 
these  Somali  robbers  for  punishment.  From  you 
I  need  assistance.  Select  of  your  bravest  men 
one  hundred  to  come  with  me;  and  tell  them  that 
they  must  obey  my  orders,  and  mine  only." 

At  the  first  sentence  M'Booley's  sullenness  van 
ished.  After  that  the  only  difficulty  was  to  make 
selection  from  the  swarms  of  volunteers. 

But  Trelawney  was  firm.  Never  did  he  relin 
quish  the  upper  hand.  When  finally  the  expedi 
tion  was  ready  there  was  no  doubt  that  it  was  the 
white  man's  expedition,  and  the  white  man's 
only. 

They  followed  immediately  on  the  Somali's 
footsteps,  and  since  the  Somalis  were  in  consider 
able  force  and  are  a  cheeky  lot  anyhow,  they  were 
soon  overtaken.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
the  caravan  thought  it  had  to  do  with  Sukas  only. 
White  men  and  white  men's  arms  were  unexpected 
and  disconcerting 


SIMBA 

;  By  way  of  a  didactic  parenthesis,  the  Somali 
comes  from  northeastern  Africa;  he  is  chocolate 
colour;  his  features  are  as  regular  and  clean  cut 
as  those  of  a  Greek  God;  he  wears  a  gorgeous  gold- 
embroidered  turban,  a  long  gown,  and  an  orna 
mental  over  vest.  His  manners  are  courtly;  he 
rides  like  a  Cossack;  he  has  never  been  subdued; 
he  is  contemptuous  of  fear;  he  is  thoroughly  un 
reliable;  and  his  opinion  of  himself  is  only  equalled 
by  his  contempt  of  everybody  else.  Altogether 
he  is  the  handsomest,  most  splendid,  independent, 
rascally  barbarian  in  the  world.  And  his  pride  is 
as  the  pride  of  Lucifer. 

Trelawney  entered  into  his  campaign  with  the 
zest  of  a  small  boy  playing  soldier.  He  selected 
a  narrow  defile  for  his  ambush,  managed  to  com 
press  the  ebullient  undiscipline  of  his  troops  to 
watchful  waiting,  with  his  own  kiboko  thrashed 
soundly  a  number  of  too  eager  spirits;  and  at  the 
proper  moment  hopped  out  so  suddenly  and  unan 
imously  that  the  twenty-odd  Somalis  were 
dragged  from  their  horses  before  they  could  fire 
a  shot.  This  was  not  to  the  discredit  of  Somali 
alertness.  As  has  been  pointed  out,  they  thought 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS        113 

they  had  to  do  with  natives  only;  and  they  knew 
that  natives  were  incapable  of  a  daylight  surprise 
attack.  Someone  would  surely  give  the  show  away. 

And  then  you  are  to  imagine  the  howling,  ex 
travagant  joy  of  that  return:  the  Sukas  dancing 
wildly;  the  askaris  very  rigid  and  dignified;  the 
ornate  guard  doing  its  best  to  imitate  them.  And 
then  the  women,  the  men  who  had  been  left  be 
hind,  a  horde  of  children  running  out  to  meet 
them;  the  sudden  production  of  the  long,  narrow 
dance  shields;  the  roaring  of  drums;  the  synco 
pated  snatches  of  rhythm  from  a  dozen  impromptu 
n'gomas;  the  sullen  captives  in  their  turbans  and 
long  robes;  and  Trelawney  proud  as  proud,  but 
outwardly  bored  almost  to  extinction,  riding  a 
captured  horse  at  the  head  of  it  all. 

He  led  the  way  directly  to  the  government  clear 
ing — known  as  the  Boma.  Therein  preparation 
for  such  an  occasion  he  had  long  since  caused  to 
be  built  a  big  corral  facing  a  small  shed  with  three 
walls.  In  the  shed  had  been  placed  a  rough  table 
and  two  chairs.  Straightway  he  marched  to 
this  throne  and,  standing,  he  brought  his  kiboko 
smartly  down  on  the  table. 


H4  SIMBA 

"AngaKa!"  he  commanded  attention;  then 
with  a  flicker  of  the  eye  in  Kingozi's  direction  he 
announced  gravely  in  English,  "Oyez!  Oyez! 
Court  is  opened!" 

VII 

ALL  that  was  necessary  was  to  question  wit 
nesses,  find  out  what  crime  had  been  committed, 
give  judgment,  and  enforce  punishment.  That 
was  all. 

At  the  end  of  four  solid  hours  of  close  question 
ing  Trelawney,  his  brain  reeling,  turned  to  his 
amused  and  silent  companion. 

"I  can't  make  head  or  tail  of  it!'7  he  cried. 
" Can  you?" 

"Don't  try,"  replied  Kingozi.  " Don't  go  too 
much  into  particulars.  Just  make  up  your  mind 
in  a  broad  general  way.  Guilty  or  not  guilty?" 

"Of  what?"  asked  Trelawney  despairingly. 

"Oh,  of  raising  hell." 

"Guilty,  then — by  all  means  guilty!" 

"Punishment?" 

"I  suppose  kiboko" 

Kingozi  leaned  forward. 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS        115 

"I  don't  often  advise,"  he  said,  "but  you  don't 
know  Somalis.  You  can't  flog  them.  It  does 
no  good,  and  sooner  or  later  they'll  have  a  knife 
in  you." 

Trelawney  arose  and  again  struck  on  the  table 
with  his  whip.  He  now  talked  Swahili  with  fair 
fluency,  so  made  his  address  direct. 

"Listen,"  he  said.  "This  is  my  judgment. 
These  men  have  acted  as  enemies,  and  so  now 
they  are  prisoners  of  war.  It  is  my  power  to  keep 
them  prisoner  or  have  them  killed.  That  I  shall 
not  do.  It  is  my  will  that  they  be  given  each  one 
horse,  and  one  gun  for  all  of  them  that  they  may 
get  meat,  and  water  bottles;  and  all  their  other 
horses  and  guns  and  property  are  mine;  and  that 
my  young  men  take  them  to  the  Guaso  iNarok 
and  turn  their  faces  to  their  own  country.  And 
when  they  come  to  their  own  country  they  must 
give  this  message  to  their  own  people:  that  here 
is  now  the  White  Man's  Law  and  the  White  Man's 
Peace.  Those  who  come  by  this  way  must  come 
quietly."  He  paused  then  spoke  over  the  heads 
of  the  prisoners  to  the  multitude:  "The  White 
Man's  Law  is  here,"  he  repeated.  "And  each 


n6  SIMBA 

morning  at  the  third  hour*  I  shall  be  here  at  this 
place.  And  those  who  wish  justice  shall  come 
here.  I  have  spoken.  Bassi!" 

He  struck  the  table  again  with  the  kiboko  and 
turned  negligently  away  as  though  further  pro 
ceedings  interested  him  not  at  all.  But  Cazi 
Moto  and  the  troops,  obeying  an  undertone  from 
Kingozi,  rushed  zealously  forward. 

"Bassi!  Bassi!  Bassi!"  they  repeated, 
thrusting  and  hurrying  the  people  forth. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  place  was  cleared.  Only 
remained  the  prisoners  and  the  white  men's 
escort.  Trelawney  covered  a  sudden  embarrass 
ment  behind  a  cigarette. 

"Fearful  lot  of  side,  of  course,"  he  muttered  as 
though  in  apology.  "Feel  like  a  bally  ass  actin' 
up  like  a  little  tin  king.  Thought  it  might  buck 
up  the  beggars " 

But  Kingozi  cut  him  short. 

"You  couldn't  have  done  better,"  he  said. 

Trelawney  flushed  with  a  genuine  pleasure. 

Kingozi  at  once  shifted  the  subject. 

"Where's  the  sportsman  who  carried  the  mes- 

*9  o'clock. 


TRELAWNEY    LEARNS        117 

sage  to  M'Booley?"  he  demanded.  "Oh,  there 
you  are.  N'jo!" 

The  ugly  but  attractive  young  savage  stepped 
from  the  ranks  of  the  bodyguard. 

"The  Bwana  M'Kubwa  wishes  to  thank  you," 
said  Kingozi. 

"Assanti,  bwana" 

"What  you  did  was  good.  Did  you  not  know 
that  these  people  would  think  you  an  enemy  and 
kill  you?" 

"That  thought  came  to  me,  Vwana" 

"Were  you  not  afraid?" 

"A  long  time  ago,  bwana,  it  happened  that  you 
yourself  cut  from  a  dead  lion  a  piece  of  fat,  and 
with  it  you  touched  my  forehead  and  my  heart, 
and  you  said  these  words:  'The  lion,  simba, 
is  bravest  among  beasts.  Remember  that  this 
magic  will  make  it  possible  for  you  to  be  the 
bravest  among  your  companions J ;  and  so  it  comes 
that  I  feel  no  fear." 

Kingozi's  brow  knit,  then  cleared. 

"You  were  then  a  child,"  he  said,  "I  remember. 
You  stood  before  the  lion  with  your  spear.  Your 
name  is  Simba." 


n8  SIMBA 

"Simba,  bwana" 

"Bassi!"  said  Kingozi,  and  the  young  man 
stepped  back. 

"That  chap  will  be  worth  watching,'7  he  told 
Trelawney.  "He's  unusual.  Well,  your  court 
is  opened." 

"If  only  they'll  bring  me  their  complaints!" 

"  Bringyou  their  complaints !  You'll  be  swamped 
with  them.  No,  you  can  rest  easy  on  that  score." 

"Only  remains  to  get  them  to  work,"  said  Tre 
lawney.  "That  promises  to  be  the  most  difficult 
of  all.  What  couldn't  a  man  do  with  labour  here ! ' ' 

"What,  for  example?" 

"Why,"  replied  Trelawney  dreamily,  stretch 
ing  his  hand  over  the  immediate  foreground. 
"Just  think,  with  a  hundred  men  and  a  little  irri 
gation  and  a  flock  of  sheep,  what  a  wonderful 
eighteen  holes  a  man  could  put  in  there!" 

Kingozi  laughed  aloud. 

"You  certainly  do  please  me!"  he  cried. 

"Are  you  keen  on  golf?"  asked  Trelawney,  sur 
prised,  "I  didn't  know  it!" 

"Never  played  in  my  life;"  replied  Kingozi, 
gazing  with  delight  on  his  companion's  puzzled  face. 


CHAPTER  IV 
TRUE  SPORTSMEN 

A  YEAR  and  three  months  had  passed  since 
young  Trelawney  had  taken  charge  of  the 
Suka  country.  He  had  during  that  time 
dwelt  quite  alone  with  the  veteran  ivory  hunter, 
Culbertson,  alias  Kingozi,  whom  the  government 
in  its  wisdom  had  sent  in  to  show  Trelawney  the 
ropes.  Kingozi  had,  as  far  as  Trelawney  could 
determine,  done  little  more  than  listen  sympathet 
ically  from  behind  an  extraordinarily  short  black 
pipe.  But  though  he  did  not  appreciate  that  fact, 
Kingozi's  indirect  suggestions  had  shaped  his 
policy.  Which  amused  Kingozi  and  satisfied  him. 

In  black  night  his  boy  scratched  on  the  door  of 
the  little  hut,  uttering  low  voiced  his  desire  for 
entrance : 

"Hodie!" 

And  Trelawney,  immediately  wide  awake,  gave 

the  required  answer: 

1 19 


120  SIMBA 

"Karibu!" 

The  boy  glided  in  with  a  lantern.  He  carried 
a  tray  with  two  cups  of  tea  and  some  thin  biscuit. 
By  sun-up  Trelawney  and  his  friend,  dressed  in 
clean  white,  were  ready  to  see  that  the  flag  in  the 
boma  \vas  raised  with  proper  ceremony.  The 
six  Sudanese  askaris  presented  arms,  the  ornate 
and  savage  bodyguard  of  spearmen,  formed — 
for  diplomatic  reasons — of  the  eldest  sons  of  chiefs, 
stood  rigid.  Trelawney  saluted. 

Breakfast  finished,  Trelawney  spent  some  time 
at  his  desk,  after  which  he  repaired  to  a  sort  of 
shed  enclosed  on  three  sides  only,  and  surrounded 
by  a  stockade.  Here,  as  in  a  canopied  throne,  he 
sat  down  with  Kingozi  seated  at  his  right  hand,  and 
the  little  wizened  black  headman  standing  at  his 
left.  The  enclosure  was  always  full  of  natives, 
squatting  and  attentive,  their  spears  thrust  in  the 
ground  standing  like  a  bright  forest  just  outside 
the  gate.  The  white  men  tolerated  no  arms 
within  the  enclosure. 

Trelawney  struck  the  table  sharply  with  his 
kiboko.  At  once  an  elderly  man  stood  up  from 
among  the  multitude. 


TRUE    SPORTSMEN  121 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  Trelawney. 

"O  Bwana  M'Kubwa,  I  am  Nyanga,  and  I  am 
headman  of  the  village  beyond  the  Hill." 

''What  is  your  complaint,  O  Nyanga?" 

"Bwana,  it  happens  that  our  people  have 
cattle,  and  that  each  day  they  feed  here  and  there 
on  the  Hill.  But  the  people  of  the  next  village 
are  bad;  and  they  have  secretly  killed  our  cattle  or 
stolen  them;  and  our  cattle  are  becoming  less." 

"How  do  you  know  this?" 

"  It  is  a  thing  well  known." 

"What  is  your  wish?" 

The  old  man's  form  straightened. 

"My  young  men  are  many  and  brave.  I  wish 
to  make  war." 

Trelawney's  eyes  snapped. 

"That  is  forbidden;  but  if  it  is  as  you  say  then 
justice  shall  be  done.  Is  anyone  here  present 
from  this  next  village?  No?  Then  here  is  my 
judgment:  on  the  third  day  from  this  let  Nyanga 
and  the  headman  of  this  other  village  both  appear 
before  me.  Simba!" 

A  young  man  stepped  forward  from  the  ranks 
of  the  bodyguard.  A  headdress  of  ostrich  plumes 


122  SIMBA 

completely  encircling  his  face  added  to  the  height 
and  ferocity  of  his  appearance.  His  supple,  beau 
tiful  body  was  almost  unclothed  and  shone  red 
bronze  in  the  sun.  He  wore  glittering  armlets  of 
brass,  a  broad  bead  belt  into  which  had  been  thrust 
the  heavy  rungaor  war  club,  and  he  carried  lightly 
a  vividly  painted  oval  shield  and  the  long-bladed 
war  spear.  The  point  of  this  latter  he  lowered 
until  it  almost  touched  Trelawney's  breast.  The 
white  man  fitted  over  it  a  narrow  band  of  red 
cloth,  the  badge  of  the  messenger. 

"  Go  you  to  these  two  villages,"  he  commanded, 
"and  tell  my  commands  in  the  public  places. 
Bassi!"  For  the  second  time  he  rapped  the 
table  sharply  with  his  kiboko.  The  complainant, 
who  had  evidently  anticipated — and  probably 
bragged  of — immediate  annihilation  of  his  ene 
mies,  arose  again  to  his  feet. 

"Bassi!  Bassi!"  cried  a  score  of  scandalized 
voices.  He  was  hustled  to  his  place,  and  his  pro 
tests  smothered. 

Next  one  of  Trelawney's  own  men  reported 
that  meat  had  been  stolen,  meat  belonging  to  the 
bivana  himself.  Questioned,  the  informant  dis- 


TRUE    SPORTSMEN  123 

claimed  knowledge  of  the  thief 's  individual  iden 
tity,  but  knew  that  he  belonged  to  a  group  of 
huts  not  far  from  the  boma.  Evidence  taken. 
This  proving  good,  Trelawney  issued  another  order 
to  his  bodyguard.  Shortly  the  inhabitants  of  the 
huts  in  question  filed  in  looking  very  scared. 
Trelawney  stared  them  over  for  several  awful 
moments. 

"Which  of  you  stole  my  meat?"  he  demanded 
sharply. 

No  one  answered. 

"  Very  well;  give  each  one  ten  lashes."  He  raised 
his  kiboko  for  his  customary  signal. 

"Bwana,  bwana  /"a  half -dozen -agonized  voices 
appealed. 

"Well?" 

It  now  appeared  there  were  two  divisions,  cor 
responding  to  the  Indian  totem  divisions.  The 
kogonis  vehemently  denied  all  guilt,  and  laid  the 
crime  on  the  swarms.  The  swarras  stood  sullen. 

"Who  among  you  is  guilty?"  sternly  demanded 
Trelawney.  No  answer. 

"Very  well.     Fifteen  lashes  for  every  swarra." 

But  this  increase  of  punishment  caused  another 


I24  SIMBA 

split.  Certain  families  asserted  an  innocence  that 
was  not  denied.  Remained  at  last  only  the  dozen 
individuals  inhabiting  one  hut. 

"I  think  we're  down  to  the  ones  who  actually 
ate  the  meat,"  said  Trelawney  to  the  other  white 
man.  "  We'll  let  it  go  at  that." 

Kingozi  chuckled. 

"'A  man's  innocence  is  assumed  until  he  is 
proven  guilty,' "  he  quoted. 

"Not  in  Africa,"  replied  Trelawney.  "My 
motto  here  is  '  punish  somebody,  the  right  one  if 
possible,  but  everybody  if  necessary.'" 

"Perfectly  right,"  replied  Kingozi,  quite  as 
though  he  had  not  himself  taught  the  young  man 
that  doctrine. 

By  the  time  the  last  complaint  was  adjudicated 
it  was  getting  on  toward  noon. 

"Mind  taking  over  sick-call?"  he  asked  Kin 
gozi.  "I  hate  to  bother  you,  but  I  am  going  to 
try  to  drum  up  some  labour." 

"I've  nothing  on;  go  with  a  free  mind,  my 


son." 


Trelawney  disappeared,  accompanied  by  two 
of  his  honorary  guard.     He  made  his  way  down  a 


TRUE    SPORTSMEN  125 

narrow  jungle  track  through  the  forest.  On 
either  side,  because  of  the  dense  growth,  one  could 
not  see  two  rods;  but  overhead  the  eye  rose 
through  a  tangle  of  rope  vines  to  a  canopy  a 
hundred  feet  above.  Only  rarely  did  the  sky 
show  through.  A  cool  green  atmosphere  flooded 
all  space,  as  one  would  imagine  the  light  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea.  By  every  evidence,  save  that 
of  the  well-trodden  narrow  path,  the  forest  seemed 
wild  and  solitary.  No  sign  of  human  occupancy 
was  visible.  Yet  Trelawney  knew  that  all  about 
him  dwelt  thousands. 

From  the  main  track,  here  and  there,  side  tracks 
branched.  Invariably  after  ten  feet  or  so  they 
made  a  sharp  turn,  so  that  the  sight  was  arrested. 
Down  one  of  them  Trelawney  made  his  way.  After 
two  more  twists  he  came  to  a  wide  clearing  open 
ing  to  the  sky.  Here  stood  in  irregular  groups  a 
score  of  round  huts  with  the  conical  grass- thatched 
roofs  typical  of  this  part  of  Africa.  The  ground 
was  beaten  hard  and  flat.  Against  the  wattle 
walls  of  the  houses  leaned  many  women,  either 
engaged  in  light  housework,  the  polishing  of  iron 
or  brass  jewellery,  or  nothing  at  all.  They  were 


126  SIMBA 

unanimously  gossiping,  however,  at  the  top  of  their 
lungs.  An  extraordinary  number  of  naked  children 
tumbled  in  the  dust  or  raced  here  and  there. 
Men  squatted  in  small  groups  talking,  or  lay 
comfortably  in  the  sun.  A  goat  or  so  wandered 
confidently  about,  and  extraordinarily  diminutive 
chickens  clambered  into  and  over  everything 
seeking  what  they  might  devour.  Thin  blue 
columns  of  smoke  rose  straight  up  fifty  feet  then 
spread  to  a  haze  that  filled  the  forest  and  barred 
the  rays  of  the  sun.  A  happy,  carefree,  idle  hum 
warmed  Trelawney's  heart.  Already  he  was 
feeling  a  paternal  interest  and  a  secret  pride  in 
the  irresponsible  children  beneath  his  charge. 

For  an  hour,  sitting  under  a  shady  tree,  he 
talked  with  the  men  of  the  village  who  gathered 
to  hear  him.  It  was  a  friendly  talk,  with  much 
chatter  and  laughter.  At  the  end  of  that  time 
he  resumed  his  journey.  By  sundown  he  had 
thus  visited  four  villages.  Then  he  returned  to 
the  boma. 

Entering  the  big  round  hut  occupied  by  Cul- 
bertson  and  himself  as  official  headquarters,  he 
found  Kingozi  lying  on  his  cot  smoking  his  small 


TRUE    SPORTSMEN  127 

black  pipe.  He  threw  himself  in  his  canvas  chair 
and  shouted  for  tea. 

"Any  luck?"  asked  Kingozi. 

"I  don't  know.  I  went  to  four  more  villages 
and  talked.  Got  plenty  of  promises,  of  course. 
They  don't  want  to  work.  Why  should  they?" 

"SeeoldM'Booley?" 

"Yes." 

"What  had  he  to  say?" 

"He  told  me  to  let  him  know  how  many  men  I 
wanted,  and  when,  and  he'd  send  them  over." 

"Well?" 

"Don't  you  see?"  said  Tielawney  desperately. 
"That  wouldn't  do  me  much  good.  I'd  get  a 
certain  amount  of  actual  labour  accomplished;  but 
that  isn't  what  I'm  driving  at  entirely.  I  want 
to  civilize  these  beggars  as  far  as  I  can.  And 
industry  is  the  first  step  toward  civilization." 

"True,  O  Solomon.  But  you  can  get  your 
men  from  M'Booley,  and  I'll  see  that  they  are 
industrious!" 

"That  would  be  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
forced  labour." 

"I  forget,"   said   Kingozi,   "what   a    frightful 


128  SIMBA 

bugaboo    you    m'zungus*    think    forced    labour 


is." 


Trelawney  flushed,  but  held  his  ground. 

"My  belief  is  that  one  accomplishes  nothing  but 
the  physical  result  with  forced  labour,"  he  asserted 
stoutly. 

"Quite  so.  Here  is  tea,"  replied  Kingozi  with 
indifference. 

They  sipped  the  tea  from  the  tall,  tumbler-like 
balauris.  After  a  little  Trelawney  resumed  the 
discussion. 

"I  have  thought  about  it  a  good  deal,"  he  said, 
"and  Fve  got  at  the  logic  of  it.  These  people 
have  too  few  needs  and  desires;  and  these  needs  and 
desires  are  all  satisfied  too  easily.  The  way  to 
make  them  work  is  to  make  them  want  something 
they  have  to  make  an  effort  for — luxuries  and  all 
that." 

"  There's  the  dukka"  suggested  Kingozi,  referring 
to  the  shop  recently  opened  by  an  East  Indian 
for  barter  with  the  Sukas.  It  stocked  such  things 
as  brass,  copper,  and  iron  wire  of  different  gauges; 
beads  of  various  sizes  and  colours;  dried  paint 


•Europeans. 


TRUE    SPORTSMEN  129 

colours  for  the  face  and  body;  snuff;  bright 
blankets  and  cotton  cloths;  ear  ornaments;  coarse 
sugar,  rank  butter,  and  the  like.  "Old  Mahrad 
may  safely  be  said  to  carry  luxuries." 

"True,  as  far  as  they  go.  But  the  old  blighter 
takes  trade.  He  wants  m'wembe  and  sisal  and 
hyrax  skins  and  any  of  the  rest  of  the  products  of 
the  country  he  can  get  his  hands  on.  And  the 
products  of  the  country  are  produced  by  women. 
Fat  lot  of  good  that  does  in  making  the  men 
industrious!  I've  a  good  mind  to  order  the  old 
fool  to  stop  barter  and  take  only  coin  for  his 
goods." 

Kingozi  laughed  outright. 

"I  think  it  a  good  idea,"  he  chuckled.  "But 
you  must  remember  that  Mahrad  knows  perfectly 
well  that  you  are  the  sole  possessor  of  money 
here;  that  you  have  brought  in  many  strong 
boxes  of  rupees;  that  if  the  Suka  are  to  get  money 
to  pay  for  his  goods,  they  must  get  it  from  you. 
He  will  salaam,  and  his  respect  for  you  will  go  up 
tremendously;  for  he — and  all  others  with  dark 
skins — will  perceive  that  you  are  in  spite  of  former 
differences  a  true  Oriental  despot,  out  for  the 


SIMBA 

make,  with  the  right  idea  of  how  to  use  your 
power  after  all,  and  that  this  talk  of  even-handed 
justice,  altruistic  disinterestedness.  White  Man's 
Peace,  and  the  rest  of  it  was  clear  poppycock,  as 
they  have  suspected  all  along." 

"Damn!"  cried  Trelawney. 

He  cogitated  for  some  time,  blowing  thoughtful 
clouds  of  smoke.  Kingozi  watched  his  clean-cut, 
youthful  face  with  some  amusement  and  con 
siderable  kindly  feeling. 

"If  the  beggars  only  needed  more  things!" 
cried  Trelawney  at  last.  "  Give  them  a  piece  of 
old  ilour  sack  and  their  notion  of  dress  is  satisfied; 
and  so  on!  They  should  have  more  wants,  more 
desires!  I  don't  believe  anybody  works  unless 
he  has  to.  Compulsion  comes  from  inside  you — 
or  outside  you — one  or  the  other." 

"Philosophy,"  commented  Kingozi. 

Trelawney  flushed  as  though  he  had  been 
caught  in  a  lie.  Abruptly  he  reverted  in  manner 
from  the  Trelawney  of  the  past  year's  develop 
ment  to  the  Trelawney  fresh  from  Downing  Street. 

"  Rotters,"  he  ended.  "  S'pose  I  must  just  keep 
preachin'.  Think'I'll  have  a  round  to  freshen  up." 


TRUE    SPORTSMEN  131 

He  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  arose, 
seized  a  bag  of  golf  clubs,  and  hurried  out.  Five 
minutes  later  he  was  at  his  game.  Up  to  now 
he  had  acquired  but  six  holes.  They  were  scienti 
fically  laid  out  according  to  the  theory  of  the 
game,  and  all  they  needed  was  a  bit  of  work 
in  smoothing  the  fairway,  and  in  constructing 
the  necessary  hazards  that  as  yet  existed  only  on 
paper.  The  putting  greens  were  fairly  good,  for 
on  them  Trelawney  had  concentrated  his  scanty 
supply  of  labour. 

Trelawney  teed  and  drove  a  smashing  straight 
ball,  and  thereby  experienced  the  appropriate 
thrill.  He  made  the  most  of  it,  for  he  was  per 
fectly  aware  that  in  all  probability  he  had  now 
a  bad  lie.  Then  he  marched  off  with  his  swarm  of 
caddies.  Golf  balls  are  scarce  in  Central  Africa, 
but  small  boys  very  plenty.  Therefore  Trelawney 
invariably  played  with  four  caddies:  one  to  carry 
the  clubs,  one  straight  ahead,  one  to  the  right  for 
"slices,"  and  one  to  the  left  for  "pulls."  The 
club  carrier  was  the  only  one  with  any  clothes, 
and  he  wore  only  the  golf  bag. 

Trelawney  returned  at  the  end  of  an  hour  all 


132  SIMBA 

aglow  with  exercise  and  a  new  idea.  While  splash 
ing  in  the  scorching  hot  tub  he  imparted  it  to 
Kingozi  through  the  flimsy  walls  of  papyrus. 

"D'ye  know  that  Saturday  is  the  King's 
Birthday?"  he  began. 

"The  fact  had  escaped  me,"  replied  Kingozi. 

"Nothing  like  sport  to  make  good  feeling. 
What  for  an  idea  to  get  up  a  field  day  by  way  of 
celebration?  Get  in  everybody  for  a  big  time. 
Let  'em  run  a  n'goma  of  their  own,  of  course. 
Same  time  have  some  athletic  sports.  Some  of 
these  Johnnies  ought  to  be  able  to  do  something." 

"Sounds  interesting." 

"I  believe  I'll  do  it,"  said  Trelawney. 

He  entered  into  the  idea  with  enthusiasm.  The 
invitations  went  out  through  M'Booley.  Soon 
after  daylight  the  guests  began  to  arrive.  They 
teetered  down  the  forest  paths  in  single  file,  each 
carrying  his  lunch  in  the  form  of  a  section  of 
sugar  cane,  a  bunch  of  bananas,  or  mysterious 
packages  wrapped  in  dried  leaves.  They  stared 
at  the  boma,  and  the  n'goma  drums,  and  sub 
sided  on  their  hams  to  await  what  might  befall. 
They  came,  and  continued  coming,  tens,  hun- 


TRUE    SPORTSMEN  133 

dreds,  finally  thousands.  From  a  very  busy  life 
it  seemed  as  though  the  entire  Suka  nation  had 
snatched  a  day  to  see  what  the  white  man  was  up 
to  now. 

"By  Gad!  I'm  glad  I  decided  against  furnish 
ing  refreshments!"  gasped  Trelawney. 

Shortly  after  seven  M'Booley,  his  prime  mini 
ster,  three  favourites  from  his  harem,  and  sundry 
ornate  but  unexplained  individuals  appeared  with 
much  pomp.  They  were  escorted  to  a  place 
kept  clear  in  front  of  the  house,  and  much  honour 
paid  them.  Said  honour  consisted  in  (a)  a  chair 
for  M'Booley;  (b)  balauris  of  sweetened  coffee  for 
all  hands;  (c)  presents  whose  splendid  appearance 
far  outdid  their  intrinsic  worth.  The  multitude 
eyed  these  proceedings  and  gave  no  sign.  Then 
the  flag  was  run  up,  and  the  askaris  delivered  a 
black-powder  volley.  Very  satisfactory. 

Next  Trelawney  purposed  starting  the  sports 
of  the  day.  Two  of  the  boys  brought  forth  a 
table  on  which  was  arranged  a  tempting  array 
of  objects.  Trelawney  made  a  speech.  He  men 
tioned  the  King,  the  prizes,  and  the  hundred-yard 
dash.  The  course  for  the  latter  was  cleared.  But 


SIMBA; 

no  entries!  In  vain  Trelawney  explained  clearly, 
holding  up  the  temptation  of  acquiring  one  coil  of 
brass  wire.  He  became  flustered  at  this  lack  of 
success. 

"Try  M'Booley,"  suggested  Kingozi. 

Trelawney  explained.  He  wanted  the  best 
runners  from  each  of  the  sub-tribes  composing  the 
Suka  nation:  he 

M'Booley  interrupted  him  with  a  deprecating, 
upraised  hand. 

"Enough,  papa,"  he  said.  "You  shall  have 
them." 

He  issued  brief  orders.  Inside  of  five  minutes 
twenty-six  men  listened  to  Trelawney's  instruc 
tions.  They  stood  here:  there  a  short  distance 
away  was  stretched  a  cord  across  the  path.  The 
man  who  broke  that  cord  would  be  given  a  coil 
of  brass  wire. 

He  got  no  further.  The  twenty-six  were  off  and 
away,  deaf  to  imprecations  and  commands. 
Trelawney  arrived  to  find  the  string  very  definitely 
broken.  At  least  fourteen  of  the  contestants 
firmly  grasped  fragments  thereof,  and  on  that 
possession  based  vehement  claims  of  victory. 


TRUE    SPORTSMEN  135 

It  took  Trelawney  five  minutes  even  to  get 
their  excited  attention;  ten  more  to  straighten  out 
the  dispute.  He  was  red  faced  and  perspiring, 
and  on  the  verge  of  apoplexy  from  the  holding 
onto  his  temper.  He  thought  longingly  of  his 
kiboko  and  the  immediate  effect  thereof,  but 
restrained  himself.  This  was  supposed  to  be  a 
festal  occasion.  The  race  was  at  last  run;  and 
successfully. 

They  had  also  jumping,  both  broad  and  high, 
a  tug  of  war,  throwing,  shooting  with  bow  and 
arrow,  and  hurling  the  spear  both  for  distance  and 
accuracy.  Trelawney  could  not  complain  of  lack 
of  interest  among  the  contestants.  The  spirit  of 
rivalry  followed  very  close  upon  the  spirit  of 
covetousness  aroused  by  the  truly  magnificent 
prizes.  It  manifested  itself  in  a  shameless  desire 
to  "hunch,"  an  unruly  tendency  to  get  away 
before  the  shot,  and  a  fixed  determination  to 
dispute  every  result,  no  matter  how  obvious. 
Trelawney  darted  here  and  there.  He  became 
hoarse  with  shouting.  His  sweat-drenched  gar 
ments  clung  to  his  figure.  He  controlled  his  temper. 

"They're  sporting  beggars,  anyhow/'  he  gasped 


136  SIMBA 

to  Kingozi,  who  sat  in  his  canvas  chair  smoking 
his  pipe  and  watching  the  show  with  rather  a 
sardonic  eye.  "Take  hold  like  good  ones.  When 
you  reflect  that  it's  the  first  time  they  ever  went 
in  for  games,  I  call  it  topping!" 

The  active  expansion  of  interest  seemed  to  be 
confined  to  the  contestants.  The  thousands  sat 
about  on  their  hams,  and  stared,  and  chewed 
sugar  cane,  and  said  nothing. 

By  mid-afternoon  Trelawney  had  reached  the 
last  number  on  his  program.  This  was  to  be  a 
distance  race.  He  explained  his  plan  to  Kingozi. 

"I'm  going  to  make  it  about  two  miles,"  he 
said.  "Right-away  down  the  track  and  return. 
Can't  be  at  both  ends  of  the  course  at  once,  so 
I'm  going  to  show  them  where  I  put  a  yam  under 
a  bush  about  a  mile  out.  Then  I'll  start  them 
here,  and  the  man  who  comes  back  first  with  the 
yam  is  the  winner." 

"That  rather  cuts  out  the  chap  who  might  be 
a  little  slow  the  first  mile  but  strong  at  a  finish, 
doesn't  it?" 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Trelawney, 
somewhat  dashed.  Then  he  brightened,  "Well, 


TRUE    SPORTSMEN  137 

what  difference  does  it  make?  We're  not  timing 
this  lot.  The  real  race  will  be  from  here  to  the 
yam." 

He  led  the  contestants  down  the  forest  track, 
showed  them  where  he  laid  the  yam,  explained 
several  times  the  conditions,  and  returned  to  the 
boma.  Then  he  lined  them  up,  twenty-six 
bronze-red,  naked,  and  shining  figures.  After 
three  false  starts — which  necessitated  much  shriek 
ing  to  call  back  the  over-zealous — they  were  off. 
Trelawney,  glancing  at  his  wrist  watch,  wiped  his 
streaming  forehead,  and  sank  into  a  canvas  chair 
alongside  his  friend. 

"I'll  give  them  about  twelve  minutes,"  he 
hazarded.  "Boy,  bring  me  lime  juice  and 
sparklets." 

The  lithe  figures  entered  the  forest.  Quiet 
fell.  The  squatting  figures  stared  round-eyed. 

Cazi  Moto  brought  the  tall  balauri,  and  Tre 
lawney  sipped  gratefully  at  its  contents.  Sud 
denly  he  set  it  down  and  uttered  an  ejaculation 
of  surprise.  From  the  forest  leaped  an  eager  figure 
followed  almost  immediately  by  several  more. 
The  contestants  were  returning! 


138  SIMBA 

1 '  Blockheads ! ' '  cried  Trelawiiey ,  thoroughly 
exasperated.  "They've  mixed  it  again!  They 
haven't  been  gone  three  minutes!" 

Closely  followed  by  a  half-dozen  others  the  lead 
ing  contestant  dashed  up.  He  eagerly  thrust 
forward  a  yam. 

"Here,  bwana  /"  he  gasped. 

And  his  companions,  close  at  his  heels,  also  prof 
fered  yams.  And  before  Trelawney  had  recovered 
his  wits,  all  the  other  contestants  had  dashed 
into  the  clearing  and  were  urging  upon  his  atten 
tion  yet  more  yams!  The  reasoning  was  per 
fectly  clear:  the  bwana  wanted  yams,  here  were 
yams,  why  run  an  incredible  distance  for  one? 

Kingozi  choked,  arose  hastily,  and  entered  the 
hut,  from  which  he  did  not  emerge  until  the  n'goma 
was  well  under  way. 

This  was  where  the  multitude  had  its  innings 
at  last,  and  with  gusto  did  it  enter  into  the  occasion. 
All  night  long  the  drums  roared  and  throbbed; 
the  wild  figures  leaped  with  the  shadows  of  the 
flames.  Dawn  found  them  still  fresh  as  the  pro 
verbial  daisies,  and  apparently  willing  to  go  on 
indefinitely.  Trelawney  was  exhausted.  Even 


TRUE    SPORTSMEN  139 

his  youth  had  run  dry.  A  headache  hammered 
at  his  skull,  and  'his  eyes  burned.  Kingozi, 
accustomed  through  long  years  to  this  sort  of 
thing,  had  been  sleeping  peacefully  in  the  house 
since  early  evening.  Trelawney  wondered  bit 
terly  how  he  could  do  it! 

He  had  not  intended  to  feed  this  crowd,  it  was 
altogether  too  expensive,  but  by  now  he  was 
desperate  and  felt  that  anything  was  cheap  that 
promised  to  stop  this  interminable  racket.  So 
he  instructed  Cazi  Moto,  and  in  five  minutes  the 
dance  had  stopped  and  all  were  crowding  toward 
the  boma  where  a  distribution  of  potio  was  taking 
place.  As  each  received  his  allotment  he  dis 
appeared  silently  into  the  forest. 

Kingozi,  awakened  by  the  cessation  of  the  noise, 
came  out  of  the  house.  The  gray  of  dawn  was 
just  filtering  through  the  trees.  He  yawned  and 
looked  with  amazement  on  his  rather  demoralized 
young  companion. 

"Party  over?" 

"I  hope  so,"  replied  Trelawney  vindictively. 
"I  never  want  to  see  another  again.  I'm  going 
to  sleep  a  week!  But  I  don't  regret:  I  think  it 


i4o  S I M  B  A 

worked.  And  the  people  are  certainly  good 
sportsmen!  They  went  into  it  hard  and  en 
thusiastically  once  they  were  given  a  lead." 

The  last  of  the  multitude  were  fading  into  the 
forest  as  the  daylight  grew  strong.  All  but  one 
group.  These  approached,  headed  by  M'Booley. 
In  them  Trelawney  recognized  the  contestants  in 
his  athletic  contest  of  the  day  before. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  uneasily. 

"The  Bwana  M'Kubwa,"  said  M'Booley,  "has 
asked  my  people  to  work  for  him,  and  has  prom 
ised  rupees  for  the  work;  and  I  have  told  the  bwana 
that  when  the  time  came  that  he  asked  me  to  do 
so  I  would  get  him  as  many  men  as  he  might 
require." 

"  What  the  devil,  does  he  think  I  want  to  go  into 
all  that  at  this  time?"  muttered  Trelawney 
savagely  to  his  friend.  Aloud  he  said  in  Swahili: 
"That  is  true,  O  M'Booley,  but  until  your  people 
come  to  work  of  their  own  free  will  I  do  not  want 
them." 

A  pause  and  a  low-voiced  consultation.  Then 
M'Booley  spoke  again: 

"My  people  have  come  of  their  own  free  will." 


TRUE    SPORTSMEN  141 

"What  is  the  old  rotter  driving  at?"  que 
ried  Trelawney  of  Kingozi.  "Say  plainly,"  he 
urged  the  Suka  king.  "What  is  it  these  men 
want?" 

"They  say  they  have  worked  all  one  day," 
replied  M'Booley,  "and  all  day  long  they  have 
done  what  the  bwana  has  told  them  to  do;  and 
now~they  have  come  for  their  pay — ten  pesi  each 
for  one  day's  work." 

Trelawney  was  staring  at  him  in  blank  aston 
ishment.  It  was  some  moments  before  he  got 
control  of  his  voice. 

"Did  you  hear  what  I  heard?"  he  asked  Kin 
gozi,  "are  these  chaps  asking  pay,  wages,  for  tak 
ing  part  in  the  sports?" 

"Looks  like  it,"  replied  Kingozi  with  an  irre 
pressible  chuckle. 

Trelawney's  eyes  glared,  and  his  mouth  twitched. 

"Well,  I've  been  through  a  lot  with  this  lot," 
he  began  in  a  strangled  voice.  His  emotions  were 
too  great  for  utterance.  He  swallowed  twice. 
Then  gradually  his  face  calmed. 

"He's  right,"  he  said  abruptly.  "Cazi  Moto 
from  the  box  with  the  white  mark  bring  me  the 


SIMBA 

small  bag  of  money."  He  looked  up  at  Kingozi. 
"Anyway,  I  got  them  to  work/7  he  said. 

From  the  bag  he  counted  out  the  thin  nickel 
coins  with  the  holes  in  the  middle.  The  con 
testants  received  them,  strung  them  on  thongs, 
and  departed. 

"I'm  not  sure  it  isn't  what  you'd  call  an  enter 
ing  wedge,"  remarked  Trelawney  thoughtfully  as 
he  watched  them  go.  He  arose  and  stretched  him 
self.  "I'm  too  done  to  sleep,"  he  remarked. 
"I  think  I'll  just  go  a  round  of  golf  and  a  tub  first. 
Will  you  play  me  a  round?" 

"What  wages  you  offering?"  asked  Kingozi. 

"You  go  to  blazes!"  cried  Trelawney,  marching 
off, 


CHAPTER  V 
FORCED  LABOUR 

DRAWING  on  toward  the  second  year  of 
the  administration  of  young  Trelawney 
among  the  wild  and  untamed  Sukas  he 
began  to  get  a  little  discouraged.  To  be  sure  he 
had,  guided  imperceptibly  by  the  imperturbable 
Culbertson,  alias  Kingozi,  and  his  able  assistant 
Cazi  Moto,  accomplished  a  number  of  things. 
For  example,  the  two  white  men,  with  only  a  dozen 
native  attendants,  had  entered  and  peacefully 
settled  down  with  the  tribesmen.  When  one 
considers  that  these  wild  savages  had  been  badly 
handled  and  generally  shot  up  by  a  previous  party 
hunting  elephants;  that  they  had  long  carried  on 
remorseless  war  with  every  stranger  from  any 
where,  this  was  something.  Also  the  white  men 
had  so  far  gained  confidence  that  their  daily 
courts  for  the  administration  of  justice  were 
thronged.  Peace  with  neighbouring  tribes  had 

143 


144  SIMBA 

been  established  and  maintained.  The  Gover 
nor  and  Provincial  Commissioner  who  had  dared 
the  experiment  of  sending  Trelawney  and  Kin- 
gozi  were  well  pleased.  But  all  this  triumph  was 
as  ashes  in  the  young  man's  mouth.  Why? 
He  had  set  his  heart  on  planting  here  the  seeds  of 
civilization,  and  in  civilization  the  first  step  was 
voluntary  paid  labour. 

He  was  by  now  as  wise  a  young  man  as  before 
he  had  been  superficial.  Long  months  in  the 
jungle  had  developed  his  philosophical  and  ana 
lytical  side.  He  knew  what  he  wanted.  And 
therefore  he  scouted  Kingozi's  easy  suggestion 
that  a  mere  hint  to  M'Booley  would  be  sufficient. 
That  well-disposed  despot  would  be  glad  to  furnish 
from  ten  to  a  thousand  men,  and  furthermore 
would  see  to  it  that  they  worked! 

"Forced  labour, "  objected  Trelawney,  with  the 
same  manner  that  two  years  ago  he  would  have 
used  in  saying  "paper  collars!" 

And  any  other  sort  of  labour  seemed  impossible 
to  get.  Nobody  wanted  to  work.  Why  should 
they?  The  women  built  very  comfortable  huts 
of  wattle  and  grass;  they  raised  amply  sufficient 


FORCED    LABOUR  145 

crops  of  m'wenibe,  mahindi,  eating  and  cooking 
bananas;  the  small  boys  took  care  of  the  herds; 
and  wealth  to  barter  for  such  desirable  luxuries 
as  wire,  snuff,  ghee,  well-flavoured  eating  soap, 
and  the  like  were  an  easy  surplus  of  the  women's 
other  industries.  Well-fed,  well-housed,  well- 
clothed,  well-ornamented;  why  on  earth  should 
any  sane  man  want  to  work?  They  grinned 
amiably,  and  promised  lavishly,  and  sat  in  the 
sun. 

In  the  temporary  backwater  of  suspended  ener 
gies  Trelawney  had  leisure  to  become  a  little 
homesick.  Heretofore  he  had  been  too  busy  and 
too  much  interested  in  the  novelty  of  the  place, 
the  people,  and  the  power  he  held  in  his  hands. 
He  was  still  interested,  but  he  wanted  a  change. 
He  did  not  know  what  was  the  matter  with  him, 
but  things  seemed  to  have  gone  flat  and  stale. 
The  shooting  ceased  to  amuse;  he  was,  as  he  con 
fessed  it,  fed  up  with  natives.  It  bored  him. 
Kingozi  knew  well  the  symptoms.  The  vertical 
rays  of  a  tropical  sun  get  a  man's  nerves  after  a 
time— the  [ultra-violet  rays;  and  the  tropic  heats 
and  chills  make  for  a  jaded  spirit.  So  well  is  this 


146  SIMBA 

recognized  that  Government  ordinarily  gives  its 
servants  six  full  months  off  every  few  years. 

Trelawney  began  to  talk  of  England,  especially 
after  the  daily  hot  bath  before  dinner,  when  the 
men  sat  outside  smoking  in  the  cool  of  first  eve 
ning.  He  had  been  raised  on  a  hilltop  in  Surrey. 
He  liked  to  recall  to  Kingozi  little  things — a 
glimpse  of  villages  far  below  in  trees;  a  hawthorne 
hedge;  a  fir  grove  with  rooks;  wet  pavements  of 
London  at  night;  the  smell  of  things  after  a  rain — 
of  course  he  never  even  brushed  the  idea  of  senti 
ment;  but  sentiment  was  there.  And  a  dozen 
times  he  professed  a  profane  willingness  to  chuck 
the  whole  thing  for  ten  minutes  on  Piccadilly. 

Kingozi  knew.  Ten  years  before — but  now, 
nothing.  He  knew  no  man  in  England  well 
enough  to  tempt  him  across  the  street;  he  had 
no  kin,  and  his  memories — who  knew  Kingozi's 
memories? 

"Look  here,"  he  said  abruptly,  "I'm  going  on 
another  ivory  trek.  One  of  M'Booley's  men  re 
ports  elephant  on  the  north  fringe  of  the  mountain. 
Why  don't  you  go  along  this  time?  It  would  do 
you  good." 


FORCED    LABOUR  147 

But  Trelawney  shook  his  head. 

"Who'll  take  over  here  in  that  case?"  he  asked. 

Kingozi  was  tempted  to  reply  that  for  a  fort 
night  it  was  probable  the  Suka  nation  would  man 
age  to  wobble  along.  It  had  been  wobbling  along 
for  some  time.  Since  the  late  Pleistocene,  Kin 
gozi  thought.  But  he  refrained.  Few  crimes  are 
worse  than  weakening  a  man's  faith  in  his  job. 

So  Kingozi  said  nothing  more,  but  at  once  set 
about  preparations  for  his  hunt.  Every  few 
months  such  reports  had  been  brought  in.  Kin 
gozi  never  failed  to  follow  them  up,  and  as  he 
looked  upon  the  slowly  growing  pile  of  tusks  in 
the  store  hut  he  felicitated  himself  that  his  stay 
here  was  not  entirely  altruistic. 

This  evening  he  called  on  his  familiar,  Cazi 
Moto,  for  further  information. 

"Who  are  these  people  who  have  seen  the 
elephant?"  he  asked. 

"They  are  shenzis,  forest  people,  bwana" 

"They  are  here?" 

"At  your  command,  bwana." 

Kingozi  recognized  the  wiry  little  savages  who 
shortly  appeared  as  belonging  to  that  wildest, 


148  SIMBA 

shyest,  most  primitive  people,  the  Wanderobo  of 
the  great  forests.  Living  widely  scattered  in  hol 
low  trees  or  logs,  or  in  simple  leaf  huts;  eating 
wild  honey,  uncultivated  roots  and  fruits,  and 
what  small  game  they  can  destroy;  without 
clothes,  ornaments,  comforts,  or  implements; 
they  nevertheless  possess,  in  common  with  the 
animals  who  are  their  peers  and  companions, 
an  instinct  for  direction,  a  skill  in  tracking,  a 
knowledge  of  beasts  that  is  marvellous.  Rarely 
do  they  permit  themselves  to  become  visible; 
but  in  some  slow,  patient,  strange  manner  Kingozi 
had  gamed  their  confidence. 

They  stood  before  him,  carrying  their  bows 
and  arrows,  almost  naked,  with  few  and  poor 
ornaments,  their  primitive  faces  with  the  strong, 
prognathous  jaws  redeemed  from  utter  savagery 
by  their  soft  and  liquid  eyes. 

Through  Cazi  Moto,  who  spoke  some  of  their 
queer,  fragmentary  language,  they  conveyed  what 
they  had  to  say:  the  elephants  had  come,  they 
were  over  yonder  five  hours,  they  were  many. 
Saying  which  they  relapsed  into  silence  and 
waited. 


FORCED    LABOUR  149 

II 

SIMBA,  son  of  M'Kuni,  and  member  of  the 
highly  ornamental  bodyguard  of  chiefs'  sons 
which  was  part  of  Trelawney's  policy  of  pacifica 
tion,  dwelt  in  one  of  the  Government  huts  with 
his  mates.  The  life  he  led  was  easy,  and  highly 
satisfactory.  He  had  all  the  food  he  cared  to  eat, 
a  warm  place  to  sleep,  and  his  natural  instincts 
toward  display  were  encouraged.  It  was  desirable 
that  the  bodyguard  should  be  impressed  by  its 
own  importance  so  that  it  remain  thoroughly  sat 
isfied  with  itself.  That  is  why  soldier's  peace 
uniforms  at  least  have  always  been  gaudy.  The 
more  undesirable  the  service,  per  se,  the  gaudier 
the  uniform.  And  it  was  furthermore  desirable 
that  those  chiefs'  sons  should  entertain  a  certain 
rivalry  or  emulation  among  themselves. 

The  son  of  M'Kuni  came  from  rather  a  small  and 
outlying  village.  He  did  not  possess  the  wealth 
of  some  of  his  rivals.  But  his  belongings  were 
in  apple  pie  order.  His  buffalo  hide  shield  he 
kept  well  oiled  and  the  heraldic  pattern  bright; 
his  long-bladed  spear  twinkled  in  the  sun;  his 


150  SIMBA 

bead  belt  with  the  sword  was  cleaned  daily;  his 
ostrich  face  frame  and  headdress,  by  the  addition 
of  fresh  feathers,  were  maintained  at  a  high  state 
of  pulchritude;  his  anklets,  armlets,  and  necklaces 
he  kept  polished  with  the  leaves  of  Kiuvi.  Be 
sides  he  owned  certain  specialties — a  pair  of 
spats  made  of  beads  called  mithanga;  a  horn  snuff 
bottle  craftily  ornamented  with  copper  rings;  and 
especially  a  flat,  circular  ornament  made  of  pelicoid 
shells  which  he  wore  on  his  forehead  and  called 
ibuo.  These  things  were  a  source  of  great  satis 
faction  to  him. 

His  duties  were  light  and  pleasant.  He  turned 
out  in  full  regalia  at  flag-raising  time.  He  at 
tended  the  Bwana  M'Kuba  on  all  his  official  er 
rands.  Occasionally,  after  winding  his  spear  blade 
with  red  cloth,  he  went  somewhere  as  messenger. 
These  journeys  took  him  to  the  villages  round 
about,  to  neighbouring  nations,  and  once  in  a  great 
while  over  a  ten  days'  journey  to  the  white  man's 
town  where  he  saw  many  wonders.  Everywhere 
he  had  a  soul-satisfying  opportunity  to  show  off 
before  less-favoured  mortals.  He  was  a  fierce 
and  imposing  figure  and  he  knew  it;  and  ha 


FORCED    LABOUR  151 

greatly  enjoyed  the  envious  glances  of  the  men,  and 
the  coy,  bright-eyed  scrutiny  of  the  girls.  And 
even  in  Nairobi  itself  he  was  conscious  of  being 
remarked  by  the  white  people. 

Before  coming  to  the  boma,  Simba  would  have 
considered  all  this  the  height  of  any  reasonable 
man's  ambitions.  But  now  he  was  dissatisfied. 
There  were  greater  heights  to  be  scaled.  As  be 
tween  Simba  in  all  his  savage  and  haughty  glory, 
and  little  black,  wizened  Cazi  Moto  dressed  in  a 
khaki  shirt  (ragged),  a  pair  of  khaki  "shorts" 
(ragged),  and  a  pair  of  shoes,  also  ragged  but  in 
dubitably  white  man's,  no  human  being  with  an 
eye  for  the  picturesque  would  have  hesitated  for  a 
moment.  Nevertheless  Simba  envied  Cazi  Moto, 
envied  him  with  all  his  heart. 

And  when  word  came  to  him  in  the  camp  gossip 
that  the  shenzis  were  in  with  news  of  elephant,  he 
did  a  bold  thing.  He  sought  out  Kingozi,  busy 
with  preparation,  and  asked  a  personal  inter 
view. 

The  white  man  looked  up  from  the  little  pile 
of  duffle  he  was  contemplating.  His  eye,  cold 
and  expressionless,  swept  the  gorgeous  figure 


152  SIMBA 

from  head  to  foot.  His  jaw  thrust  forward  agres- 
sively  the  line  of  his  beard. 

"Well?"  he  demanded. 

"Bwana,"  said  Simba,  "it  has  come  to  me  that 
you  go  to  fight  the  elephant.  I  ask  you  to  take  me. ' ' 

"What  for?"  asked  Kingozi  bluntly. 

"As  gunbearer,"  said  Simba. 

Cazi  Moto  cackled,  and  the  four  veteran  bear 
ers,  who  had  squatted  listening  to  the  colloquy, 
burst  out  laughing.  Kingozi  himself  grinned. 

"Gunbearer,  eh?"  he  repeated,  grimly  amused. 
' '  What  do  you  know  of  guns ?  Can  you  load  one ? ' ' 

"Yes,  bwana." 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  Kingozi  in  some  sur 
prise.  "  Where  did  you  learn  that?  " 

"I  have  watched,  bwana." 

"How  do  you  clean  a  gun?  " 

"First,"  said  Simba,  greatly  heartened,  "I 
get  water,  very  hot,  katchemka  sana,  and  I  pour 
it  down  the  hole,  slowly,  slowly.  And  then  I  take 
a  piece  of  cloth  and  I  push  it  through  with  the 
stick;  and  another;  and  another  until  the  last 
cloth  is  dry.  And  then  I  put  the  fat  that  is  in  the 
small  bottle  on  another  piece  of  cloth,  and  I  push 


FORCED    LABOUR  153 

that  through  the  hole.    And   then  I  rub   this 
cloth  on  the  outside." 
"And  you  learned  this  by  watching?" 


Kingozi  arose  from  the  ground  and  dropped  into 
his  canvas  chair. 

"This  is  interesting,"  he  said  to  himself  in 
English,  as  was  his  frequent  custom.  "Never 
knew  a  native  to  observe  that  closely.  Now," 
he  continued  in  Swahili,  "have  you  also  watched 
how  one  takes  the  skin  from  a  head?" 

"Yes,  bwana." 

"Tell  me." 

Simba  did  so  in  minute  detail.  He  had  even 
noticed  a  certain  first  incision  in  the  back  of  the 
neck  that  was  peculiar  to  Kingozi. 

"Astonishing!"  muttered  the  latter. 

He  continued  to  stare  at  the  picturesque,  bril 
liantly  decorated  savage  before  him,  his  jaw 
thrust  forward,  his  steely  eyes  hard  and  uncom 
promising  as  was  his  habit. 

"Listen,"  he  said  abruptly.  "I  know  you  welL 
You  are  that  Simba  whom  I  rubbed  with  the  fat 
of  the  lion  when  you  were  a  small  boy.  Therefore 


154  SIMBA 

you  are  brave.  You  have  also  knowledge  of  some 
things.  But  bravery  and  knowledge  are  not  all 
of  a  gunbearer.  A  gunbearer  must  know  many 
things  you  do  not  know.  Also  he  must  serve  his 
white  man  better  than  he  would  serve  himself,  and 
he  must  know  and  carry  out  all  the  disfaufj*  of  a 
gunbearer.  To  do  this  he  must  serve  the  white 
man  for  a  long  time." 

"I  wish  to  serve,  bwana." 

Kingozi  barked  out  a  short,  contemptuous 
laugh. 

"But  a  gunbearer!  You  are  no  more  a  gun- 
bearer  than  a  cub  is  a  killer  of  the  lion  pack. 
Because  you  flap  your  arms,  are  you  therefore  an 
eagle?" 

The  attentive  bystanders  laughed.  If  Simba 
had  been  a  white  youth  instead  of  a  red-bronze 
youth,  he  would  probably  have  blushed  deeply. 
As  it  was  he  stared  straight  before  him  and  his 
ostrich  plumes  quivered. 

"What  does  a  man  do  to  become  a  gunbearer, 
bwana  ?  "  he  asked. 

"He  serves  the  white  man,  and  learns,"  replied 

•The  customs,  as  comprising  also  the  traditions,  loyalties,  ana  ideals  of  any  service. 


FORCED    LABOUR  155 

Kingozi.  "  And  if  he  learns  well,  and  serves  well,  it 
may  be  that  some  time  he  gets  a  chance." 

"Then  I  will  serve,  bwana." 

"Will  you,  indeed !"  commented  Kingozi,  in 
English.  "Very  well.  To  do  so  you  must  lay 
aside  for  always  all  these  things,"  he  indicated  with 
a  brief  almost  contemptuous  gesture  the  shield, 
spear,  barbaric  ornaments  of  the  splendid  savage. 
"You  will  wear  the  blanket  and  clothes  of  a  porter. 
You  will  carry  a  load  on  your  head.  You  will 
receive  potio  as  a  porter,  and  meat  when  meat  is 
shot.  You  will  chop  wood,  carry  water,  make 
camp,  do  all  the  hard  work  that  a  porter  must  do. 
Whatever  I  tell  you,  that  you  must  do.  You 
will  go  where  I  go  or  where  I  tell  you  to  go.  You 
will  be  paid  five  rupees  each  month." 

Simba  listened  attentively,  his  eyes  unwavering. 
At  the  close  of  the  speech  he  stepped  forward, 
laid  his  spear  and  shield  at  Kingozi's  feet,  stripped 
the  ostrich  plume  headdress  from  his  head,  added 
his  war  club,  his  bead  belt,  the  bells  he  wore  along 
his  thighs,  and  was  about  to  remove  even  the  arm 
lets  and  necklets,  but  Kingozi  stopped  him. 

"Bassi,"  said  he.    "It  is  then  agreed.     Cazi 


156  SIMBA 

Moto,  give  this  man  a  blanket,  a  jersey,  a  water 
bottle." 

Ill 

NEXT  morning  the  hunting  party  entered  the 
forest.  It  consisted  of  Kingozi,  Cazi  Moto,  and 
the  four  porters,  one  of  whom  was  Simba.  The 
loads  they  carried  were  very  light,  not  more  than 
thirty  pounds  per  man,  and  contained  only  the  bar 
est  necessities  for  the  roughest  camping.  The 
method  of  hunting  the  elephant  in  these  forests 
was  simplicity  itself.  The  little  party  would  follow 
on  the  track  of  an  elephant  throughout  all  the  day 
light  hours.  At  night  they  would  make  a  fireless 
camp,  eat  cold  food,  and  lie  down  to  sleep  as  well 
as  they  might  until  the  following  morning.  Then 
they  would  resume  the  pursuit.  Kingozi  always 
allowed  himself  five  days.  If  at  the  end  of  the 
fourth  day  he  had  not  struck  his  quarry,  here- 
turned  on  the  fifth  to  his  base  camp  for  rest  and 
new  supplies.  Five  days  of  that  kind  of  labour  was 
about  all  the  human  frame  should  be  called  upon 
to  endure. 

At  the  edge  of  the  forest  they  were  met  by  the 


FORCED    LABOUR  157 

Wander obo.  These  little  naked  hunters  materi 
alized  suddenly  and  silently.  There  were  now  a 
dozen  of  them.  Without  formal  greeting  they 
gathered  in  a  compact  circle,  making  room  for 
Kingozi  and  Cazi  Moto,  who  squatted  down  with 
them.  The  four  porters  stood  in  the  background. 
Someone  kindled  a  tiny  fire.  N'jahgi,  the 
leader,  in  so  far  as  such  primitive  savages  could  be 
said  to  have  a  leader,  produced  from  a  skin  bag 
hung  around  his  neck  a  chunk  of  dried  elephant  fat. 
This  he  deposited  on  the  fire.  When  it  blazed  up, 
each  number  of  the  circle  laid  upon  the  flame  a 
sacrifice.  One  cut  several  links  from  the  iron 
chain  he  wore  around  his  neck;  another  poured  out 
a  palmful  of  pungent  stuff;  a  third  donated  a  col 
lection  of  apparently  valueless  pebbles  and  seeds 
which  were  undoubtedly  cherished  magic;  and  so 
on.  Kingozi  recognized  that  these  apparently 
trivial  things  were  hi  reality  of  great  value  to  so 
simple  and  impoverished  a  people;  and  that  by  the 
extent  of  the  sacrifice  could  be  gauged  their  opin 
ion  of  the  seriousness  of  the  occasion.  When  his 
turn  came  he  laid  upon  the  flames  a  very  brilliant 
cotton  handkerchief. 


158  SIMBA 

The  N'jahgi  arose  to  his  feet  and,  with  arms 
upstretched,  addressed  in  turn  each  of  the  four 
points  of  the  compass.  He  spoke  in  a  language 
unknown  to  Kingozi,  or  indeed  to  Simba  and  his 
companions,  but  his  deep  earnestness  lent  to  his 
utterances  a  solemnity.  Then,  plucking  a  branch 
from  a  near-by  bush,  he  dipped  it  in  the  ashes  of 
the  dying  fire,  and  with  it  struck  gently  thrice 
across  Kingozi's  face.  The  ceremony  being  thus 
finished,  all  arose  and  swiftly  took  up  the  trail  into 
the  forest. 

Simba  had  never  before  carried  a  load:  so  it 
was  as  well  that  this  was  light.  By  way  of  counter 
balance,  however,  the  track  of  the  elephant  led 
over  a  very  rough  country  and  through  a  very 
thick  jungle.  Only  where  the  great  beast  had 
cleared  a  way  would  it  have  been  possible  for 
human  beings  to  proceed  at  all.  Up  steep  hills  and 
down  again;  through  streams;  across  jungles  where 
the  swinging  vines,  merely  brushed  aside  by  the 
animal's  passage,  caught  at  the  loads  like  hands; 
then  climbing  again  an  almost  perpendicular 
slope,  and  so  into  the  bamboo  forests  where  the 
cool-looking  green  stalks  grew  close  and  almost 


FORCED    LABOUR  159 

as  tall  as  the  sky,  and  one  saw  only  in  the  narrow 
tracks  of  elephants  or  down  short  vistas  where 
grew  deep,  spongy  green  moss.  And  at  night 
after  a  supper  of  cold  potio,  which  is  unappetizing, 
everyone,  Kingozi  included,  wrapped  up  and  lay 
down  on  the  ground.  It  was  very  cold  and 
there  was  no  fire.  The  Wanderobo  curled  up  to 
gether  like  so  many  dogs.  The  porters  and  Simba 
shivered  miserably  and  were  most  unhappy.  At 
dawn,  stiff  and  weary,  they  were  up  and  off  again. 
Simba's  neck  ached,  his  lungs  laboured,  his  legs 
hurt,  but  if  he,  or  any  of  the  porters,  so  much  as 
scraped  a  log  in  passing,  Cazi  Moto  hissed  back 
a  fierce  warning. 

For  two  days  thus  they  followed  the  elephant's 
track.  On  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  after  a 
plunge  down  from  the  bamboo  into  the  forest 
country  again,  the  elephant's  tracks  joined  those 
of  many  more;  and  the  whole  band  moved  forward 
together,  cutting  a  twenty-foot  swath  through  the 
jungle  as  though  a  gigantic  mowing  machine  had 
passed. 

Shortly  after  they  came  within  hearing  of  the 
elephants.  Simba  had  never  seen  one  of  these 


160  SIMBA 

great  beasts,  and  now  he  listened  with  something 
approaching  awe  to  the  thunder-like  rumblings 
of  digestion  and  the  slow,  deliberate  crashings  of 
the  unseen  monsters.  They  were  evidently  feed 
ing  on  a  forested  side  hill  across  a  deep,  cleft 
ravine. 

After  a  short  consultation  the  whole  party 
moved  forward  again.  Simba  and  his  mates  still 
carried  the  burdens,  for  until  actually  in  touch  with 
the  game  no  man  could  tell  where  the  chase  might 
lead. 

The  next  three  hours  were  terrifying  and  hum 
bling  to  Simba.  At  the  end  of  them  he  wondered 
how  he  had  ever  in  his  ignorance  dared  raise  his 
eyes  to  the  position  of  gunbearer.  They  crept  for 
ward  down  the  elephant  trails;  and  almost  immedi 
ately  they  were  in  the  middle  of  the  scattered  herd. 
Kingozi  kept  lighting  matches,  shaking  the  flame 
from  them,  and  watching  anxiously  where  the  im 
perceptible  currents  of  air  carried  the  resultant 
puffs  of  smoke.  The  Wanderobo  disappeared 
noiselessly,  and  reappeared  again  one  by  one,  and 
disappeared  again.  The  party  moved  forward 
by  inches,  with  infinite  precautions.  Beyond  the 


FORCED    LABOUR  161 

leafy  screen  that  hemmed  them  in  almost  stiflingly 
they  heard  lazy,  tremendous  sounds. 

Then  suddenly  one  of  the  beasts  screamed,  and 
pandemonium  broke  loose.  Great  bodies  rushed 
here  and  there;  the  tops  of  small  trees  shivered 
with  shock;  the  rip  of  branches  torn  whole  from 
the  trunk  followed  by  tremendous  crashes  re 
sounded  on  all  sides.  And  from  all  directions 
the  trumpeting  was  continuous. 

Kingozi  stood  still  in  the  centre  of  a  tiny  open 
ing.  His  bent  figure  had  straightened  tensely; 
his  bearded  lips  had  parted  to  show  the  gleam 
of  teeth;  his  eyes  shone.  Close  to  his  elbow 
crouched  Cazi  Moto,  holding  the  second  rifle. 
He,  too,  was  taut  as  a  coiled  spring;  his  eyes  also 
shone.  The  Wanderobo  bent  low  and  dove  under 
the  bush,  worming  their  way  out  of  sight.  The 
row  increased.  Every  few  moments  one  or  two 
of  the  little  forest  people  would  dart  from  the 
mysterious  shadows  as  though  the  devil  were  be 
hind  them.  Sometimes  they  were  cruelly  fright 
ened.  Their  skins  had  turned  ashen  gray, 
their  limbs  trembled  as  with  palsy,  their  eyes 
rolled  in  their  heads,  their  teeth  chattered  so 


162  SIMBA 

they  could  hardly  speak.  It  was  evident  that 
they  had  been  very  close  to  death.  They  ran  to 
crouch  at  the  white  man's  feet  as  terrified  dogs 
might  run  for  comfort  to  their  masters.  Never 
theless,  after  shivering  for  a  few  moments  they 
apparently  regained  control  of  themselves,  spoke 
a  few  low  words  to  the  attentive  hunter,  shook 
themselves,  and  dauntlessly  plunged  into  the 
forest  again.  Simba's  imagination  was  not  over 
developed,  but  he  wondered  if  he  could  do 
that. 

This  lasted  for  a  good  half  hour.  Then  they 
had  to  leave  that  spot.  Without  warning  the 
green  leaves  parted  and  an  elephant  brushed  into 
the  opening.  It  loomed  fairly  over  them.  To 
Simba's  terrified  senses  it  seemed  as  tall  as  the 
forest  trees  and  as  massive  as  a  kopje  of  the  plains. 
Kingozi  and  Cazi  Moto  ducked  low  and  ran,  not 
away  from  the  beast  but  angling  back  past  it. 
The  porters  dropped  their  loads  and  scattered 
off  into  space.  Simba  clung  to  his  load  and  fol 
lowed  his  master.  This  was  not  bravery  on  his 
part.  The  other  porters  had  been  in  like  cir 
cumstances  before  and  knew  what  to  do.  Simba 


FORCED    LABOUR  163 

did  not  Therefore  he  instinctively  followed  the 
white  man.  As  to  his  retaining  his  load,  that  was 
sheer  accident.  He  did  not  have  enough  unscared 
wit  to  let  go. 

The  elephant  trumpeted  and  crashed  after  the 
elusive  porters.  Kingozi  and  Cazi  Moto  at  once 
halted.  They  seemed  unperturbed. 

"Small  cow,  bwana"  remarked  Cazi  Moto. 

After  a  moment  they  returned  to  the  opening. 
Kingozi  noticed  Simba. 

"Why  did  you  keep  your  load?"  he  asked. 

But  Simba  was  spared  the  necessity  of  an  em 
barrassing  reply,  for  at  that  instant  N'jahgi  and 
another  hunter  ran  up  excitedly.  N'jahgi  plucked 
at  Kingozi's  sleeve,  uttering  excitedly  a  low- 
voiced  word.  At  once  all  four,  stooping  low, 
disappeared. 

A  long  wait  ensued.  Simba,  chilly  from  ex 
citement,  shivered  by  the  four  loads.  The  forest 
was  growing  quieter.  The  elephants,  vaguely 
disturbed  by  a  presence  they  had  not  fully  deter 
mined,  were  calming  down.  Then  a  short  dis 
tance  away  the  great  elephant  gun  spoke.  Once! 
twice!  then  two  shots  close  together. 


164  SIMBA 

An  instant's  silence,  and  then  a  roar  of  sound. 
The  former  disturbance  had  been  nothing.  Sim- 
ba,  sitting  on  one  of  the  loads,  listened  with  awe. 
The  herd  had  moved  on  down  the  ravine  so  he, 
personally,  was  well  out  of  it.  But  the  rending 
of  wood,  the  crash  of  branches,  the  irresistible 
rush  of  bodies,  the  screaming,  trumpeting,  and 
yelling  of  the  enraged  and  alarmed  animals 
made  of  that  lower  ravine  a  cauldron  of  sound 
that  seemed  to  Simba  like  the  whirling  abode  of 
devils.  And  every  few  moments,  from  the  very 
centre  of  it,  boomed  a  gun.  Behind  the  gun,  Simba 
knew,  was  Cazi  Moto,  gunbearer! 

Then  without  apparent  reason  the  herd  moved 
away.  It  could  be  heard  smashing  on  down  the 
ravine;  the  sounds  rapidly  becoming  fainter  until 
they  ceased.  A  deep  silence  descended  on  the 
forest.  Simba,  left  alone  in  this  strange  environ 
ment,  wondered,  awe  stricken,  whether  all  had 
been  killed. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  sat  there  minutes.  As 
a  matter  of  fact  it  was  seconds  only.  Then  a 
long,  clear  call  sounded.  Almost  immediately 
the  other  three  porters  appeared  very  myster- 


FORCED    LABOUR  165 

iously,  picked  up  their  loads,  and  set  out  in  the 
direction  of  the  call.  Simba  followed  them. 

They  proceeded  for  perhaps  a  quarter  mile, 
making  their  way  through  the  wreck  and  devas 
tation  of  the  elephant  stampede.  Then  they 
came  upon  a  little  group  consisting  of  Kingozi,  Cazi 
Moto,  N'jahgi,  and  all  his  Wanderobo.  Simba's 
incredulous  eyes  counted  them.  They  were  all 
there.  Furthermore,  they  were  sitting  about 
chatting  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  Kin 
gozi  was  leaning  against  a  huge  gray  rock  smoking 
his  pipe.  Then  with  a  shock  Simba  realized  that 
it  was  not  a  rock,  but  a  dead  elephant! 

He  set  down  his  load  and  walked  all  around  the 
huge  animal,  gazing  with  dumfounded  aston 
ishment  at  its  proportions,  its  trunk,  the  gleam  of 
its  massive  ivory.  Of  such  a  thing  had  Simba 
never  dreamed.  Kingozi  was  talking  with  Cazi 
Moto. 

"This  is  a  good  bull,  bwana,  with  good 
teeth." 

"A  good  one/'  assented  Kingozi.  "The other 
is  not  much  smaller.  But  I  am  not  pleased  that 
we  had  to  kill  the  cow." 


i66  SIMBA 

"If  we  had  not  killed  the  cow,  the  cow  would 
have  killed  us.  They  were  very  many.7' 

"That's  true." 

So  there  were  two  others!  And  these  had  of 
their  own  accord  descended  into  the  raging  hell. 
Indeed  this  was  a  great  master  who  fights  the 
Elephant!  Simba  looked  upon  the  hero,  Cazi 
Moto,  and  admiration  filled  him;  he  looked 
upon  Kingozi,  the  demi-god,  and  veneration 
flooded  his  whole  being.  Simba  was  a  simple 
soul. 

The  tiny  simple  camp  was  made,  and  presently 
all  set  to  work  on  the  hard  labour  of  cutting  out 
the  ivory.  But  first  Kingozi  permitted  his  men 
and  the  Wanderobo  hunters  to  take  their  selec 
tion  of  the  meat.  Cazi  Moto  and  his  friends  skin 
ned  bits  from  the  inside  of  the  trunks,  and  in 
addition  laid  aside  for  future  reference  huge 
chunks  cut  from  along  the  backbone.  The 
Wanderobo,  however,  had  different  ideas.  They 
opened  slits  in  the  great  beasts'  bellies,  and 
actually  crawled  inside  the  body  cavities  in  search 
of  especial  tit-bits!  After  ten  minutes  they  re 
appeared,  somewhat  soiled,  but  very  happy. 


FORCED    LABOUR  167 

Each  then  cut  off  as  much  more  as  he  could  carry 
of  the  coarser  meat. 

The  job  was  finished  none  too  soon.  Appeared 
on  the  scene  at  a  dog- trot  an  ancient  shrivelled 
savage  with  a  hyrax  fur  cap  followed  by  three  old 
women,  his  wives,  and  any  quantity  of  miscel 
laneous  ages  of  both  sexes,  his  various  descend 
ants.  These  were  one  and  all  armed  with  the 
native  soft  iron  sword-knives.  The  edges  were 
both  bad  and  temporary,  and  the  elephant's 
meat  tough,  but  they  set  to  work  with  great 
diligence,  being  in  on  the  ground  floor.  As  fast 
as  a  chunk  of  meat  was  severed  they  laid  it  aside 
in  a  rapidly  growing  pile  under  a  certain  tree. 
There  they  knew  it  would  be  perfectly  safe  from 
theft. 

Their  business-like  diligence  was  shortly  ex 
plained  by  the  arrival  of  more  and  yet  more 
natives.  They  appeared  from  all  directions, 
swiftly  and  silently.  How  they  had  received  the 
news,  who  shall  say?  The  transmittal  of  detailed 
intelligence  over  incredible  distances,  in  the  brief 
est  time,  through  unpopulated  country,  is  one  of 
the  mysteries  of  Africa.  But  there  they  were, 


i68  SIMBA 

hundreds  of  them,  all  as  busy  as  bees.  And, 
unbelievable  as  it  may  seem,  by  the  time  darkness 
had  fallen  the  three  great  carcasses  had  been 
stripped  of  everything  edible.  In  the  aisles  of 
the  forest,  beneath  the  cozy  shelter  of  the  lower 
jungle,  gleamed  a  hundred  little  fires.  The  smell 
of  roasting  meat  was  in  the  air.  A  happy  chatter 
was  going  up  everywhere.  On  the  under  side  of 
leaves  and  against  the  trunks  of  trees  cross  shad 
ows,  cross  lights  were  carrying  on  a  mad  jolly 
revel  of  their  own.  In  the  depths  of  the  forest, 
as  always,  the  tree  hyraxes  screamed  like  devils. 

Before  the  larger  fire  built  by  the  porters  Simba 
reclined.  His  happiness  was  nearly  complete. 
Tall,  grill-like  racks  supported  strips  of  meat  at 
just  the  right  distance  for  the  inauguration  of  the 
process  of  making  biltong.  Switches  nearer  the 
blaze  impaled  tit-bits  of  roasting  meat.  A  suf- 
uria  with  potio  and  still  more  meat  boiled  fu 
riously.  His  companions  were  swapping  boastful 
or  wonderful  stories,  as  is  porter  custom,  and 
through  them  Simba  envisaged  wonderful  far 
countries,  mighty  deeds.  Although  naturally 
they  retained  the  lofty  superiority  of  the  travelled 


FORCED    LABOUR  169 

over  the  stay-at-home,  still  he  felt  that  they  had 
apparently  accepted  him  as  one  of  themselves. 
His  neck  muscles  had  recovered  from  the  carrying 
of  the  load.  Across  the  eddying  smoke,  at  an 
other  fire,  he  could  see  dimly  his  idol,  gravely 
smoking  his  pipe  and  gazing  into  the  coals, 
occasionally  exchanging  a  word  with  Cazi  Moto. 
In  the  background  lay  the  gleaming  tusks  of 
ivory — tangible  evidence  of  triumph.  Simba's 
heart  swelled  as  he  thought  of  the  triumphant 
return. 

Only  one  fly  in  the  ointment.  Simba  felt 
cruelly  his  lack  of  clothes.  No,  gentle  reader,  he 
was  not  cold,  nor  overtaken  with  hitherto  un 
known  modesty.  But  magnificent  as  were  his 
wire  jewellery,  his  ear  ornaments,  his  beadwork, 
they  marked  him  indubitably  as  a  temporary 
porter,  as  a  shenzi.  Mightily  he  longed  for  the 
nondescript  conglomeration  of  white  man's  cast- 
offs  that  make  every  safari  so  closely  resemble  a 
rummage  sale.  He  had  no  means  of  acquiring 
such  valuables.  Then  like  a  flash  he  remembered 
Kingozi's  promise  of  five  rupees  a  month!  For 
the  first  time  in  his  life  Simba  realized  the  use  of 


170  SIMBA 

and  the  desire  for  money.  He  turned  to  his 
neighbour  and  began  to  bargain.  But  though  the 
use  and  desire  of  money  were  thus  revealed,  the 
value  was  not;  so  Simba  was  utterly  done  in  the 
eye  by  the  astute  barbarian.  Nevertheless,  he 
became  possessed  of  a  pair  of  ragged  "shorts" 
and  the  wreck  of  a  military  tunic  too  small  for 
him.  (The  vendor  philosophically  went  naked 
until  the  boma  was  reached.)  The  price  was 
exorbitant,  but  even  later  sophistication  failed 
to  make  Simba  even  regret  his  bargain. 

IV 

THE  triumphal  return  to  the  boma  had  taken 
place.  That  hour  was  brief  but  glorious. 
Each  regular  porter  carried  a  tusk,  its  hollow 
filled  with  damp  mud  to  preserve  it,  leaving  to 
casual  shenzis  impressed  for  the  purpose  the 
transportation  of  the  cow  ivory  and  the  scanty 
camp  equipment.  Everybody  turned  out  to  see 
them.  Simba  gazed  with  pitying  contempt  on 
his  late  comrades-in-arms. 

"Good  luck,"  Kingozi  answered  Trelawney's 
question.  "  Got  four  bull  tusks  that  will  average 


FORCED    LABOUR  171 

about  eighty  pounds.  Had  to  shoot  a  cow,  I'm 
sorry  to  say.  She  was  fairly  on  top  of  me.  Have 
to  report  her  into  the  Commissioner,  I  suppose. 
She  had  nice  ivory — about  fifteen  pounds  apiece, 
I  should  judge.  But  you  don't  care  a  hang  for 
all  that.  I  can  see  you  have  something  on  your 
mind.  Let's  have  it  before  you  burst." 

"Oh,  I  say,"  protested  Trelawney.  "Of  course 
I'm  interested,  no  end!" 

But  he  required  little  more  urging. 

"I've  been  mulling  it  over,"  he  announced  with 
triumph,  "and  I  have  the  solution." 

"You  mean  civilizing  the  savages,  voluntary 
labour,  and  all  the  rest?" 

"Yes." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Kingozi,  filling  his  pipe. 

"A  tax — payable  only  in  cash,"  explained 
Trelawney.  "No — wait  until  I  have  finished — I 
know  just  what  you're  going  to  say.  It  won't  be 
a  tax  on  individuals,  or  products,  or  anything  of 
that  sort.  I  know  perfectly  well  it  would  be 
impossible  to  get  any  just  census  of  all  that.  But 
this  will  be  a  tax  for  every  hut!  What  do  you 
think  of  that?" 


172  SI  MB  A 

"  Splendid ! "  said  Kingozi.    "  Go  on." 

"You  see  I  can  get  track  of  the  huts;  and  I'll 
levy  an  annual  tax  of,  say,  three  rupees.  Not 
much,  but  somebody  will  have  to  work  long 
enough  to  get  it.  And  I  shall  insist  on  payment 
in  cash!" 

"And  since  you  have  the  only  supply  of  rupees 
in  the  whole  district,"  supplemented  Kingozi. 
"They'll  have  to  work  for  you." 

"Precisely!"  cried  Trelawney,  his  face  glowing. 

"Suppose  they  refuse  to  pay  the  tax?" 

Trelawney  stiffened. 

"In  that  case  I  should  of  course  be  prepared  to 
take  proper  measures,"  he  replied. 

Kingozi  choked  badly  over  his  pipe,  and 
finally  coughed  his  way  outdoors.  There  he  ran 
like  a  deer,  until  at  a  safe  distance  he  laughed 
until  the  tears  trickled  over  his  great  beard.  Cazi 
Moto  came  there  upon  him. 

"There  is  good  news,  bwana"  he  ventured. 

"Cazi  Moto,"  said  Kingozi  impressively,  "won 
derful  beyond  the  powers  of  expression  are  the  by 
ways  of  conscience  and  the  human  soul.  Here 
is  a  youth  whose  whole  being  revolts  against  the 


FORCED    LABOUR  173 

idea  of  forced  labour.  He  wouldn't  think  of  it! 
Not  he !  The  very  notion  is  abhorrent. ' '  Kingozi 
laughed  again.  Cazi  Moto  joined  respectfully: 
though  as  Kingozi's  remarks  were  all  in  English, 
his  sympathy  was  affectionate  but  unintelligent. 
"But  he's  willing  to  'take  proper  measures'  to 
make  them  give  him  what  they  can  get  from  him 
only  by  labour.  And  in  the  end  he's  still  got  the 
money — and  the  labour!  Oh,  fine!  Shall  I  tell 
him  that,  Cazi  Moto?  Never!  I  approve  of  the 
whole  show.  But  you  must  acknowledge  it's 
funny!" 

"N'dio,  bwana"  said  Cazi  Moto;  which  is  a 
good  shot-gun  reply,  like  the  French  je  crois. 

Trelawney  went  at  his  new  scheme  whole 
heartedly,  with  a  fine  eye  for  detail.  He  sent  out 
the  sublimated  errand  boys,  that  Kingozi  called 
the  "Bang's  Guard,"  with  instructions  to  count 
carefully  the  houses  in  each  village,  bringing  back 
one  stick  for  each  house.  He  himself  rode  here  and 
there,  checking  at  random  the  count.  After  this 
was  completed  he  called  in  each  village  a  little 
shauri  to  explain  the  new  system;  and  after  they 
were  all  finished  a  grand  shauri  at  the  boma  for  the 


174  SIMBA 

same  purpose.  It  took  hours  of  talk  to  explain 
the  idea  to  Trelawney's  satisfaction.  The  simple 
Suka  grasped  it  in  five  minutes.  It  was  another 
honga  or  tax.  They  were  accustomed  to  lion-gas 
from  ancient  tunes.  The  phrase  "payable  in 
rupees  only  "  did  not  impress  them  at  that  moment. 
Gradually  it  dawned  on  Trelawney  himself  that 
human  problems  are  never  miraculously  solved 
by  mere  legislative  enactment.  The  slow,  tedious 
"campaign  for  education"  to  make  it  effective 
was  yet  to  come.  Therefore  he  terminated  the 
shauri  with  a  few  appropriate  remarks. 

He  returned  to  his  tea  rather  thoughtfully. 

"I  think  I've  made  a  good  start/7  he  told 
Kingozi,  "but  a  great  deal  remains  to  be  done. 
They  don't  realize  yet.  I've  been  thinking.  I 
must  name  a  fairly  early  date  for  payment;  bring 
considerable  pressure  to  bear;  and  they,  when 
they  can't  pay — as  of  course  they  can't — give 
them  a  well-understood  extension  of  one  month— 
or  two " 

He  sipped  at  his  tea,  his  forehead  wrinkled  with 
deep  thought.  The  savages  who  had  attended 
the  shauri  were  only  slowly  leaving  the  boma. 


FORCED    LABOUR  175 

There  was  the  sound  of  chattering,  of  loud  laugh 
ter.  Some  were  making  their  way  to  the  dukka  of 
Mahrad,  the  Indian.  Then  a  cry  arose  of  warning 
—angalia  !  angalia  !  The  crowd  parted,  and  two 
of  Trelawney's  splendid  messengers  were  seen 
coming  along  at  a  dog  trot.  They  were  in  full 
panoply,  and  one  held  straight  before  him,  as  a 
crusader  might  carry  a  cross,  a  split  stick  in 
whose  cleft  letters  had  been  bound. 

There  proved  to  be  two  of  these,  and  both 
official.  He  read  them  shortly  with  darkening 
brow  and  kindling  eye. 

"Of  all  the  damned  impudence!"  he  cried  at 
last. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Kingozi;  who,  by  the  way, 
already  knew  perfectly. 

"  They've  laid  me  off  for  a  six  months'  vacation !" 
cried  Trelawney,  "and  have  appointed  Barrows 
to  take  my  place!" 

"Congratulations,"  said  Kingozi,  "now you  can 
take  your  trip  to  England  youVe  wanted  so  badly." 

"Trip  to  England  be  damned!"  Trelawney 
vociferated,  his  calm  completely  shattered. 
"There's  my  hut  tax!" 


176  SIMBA 

He  darted  into  the  house.  At  the  end  of  ten 
minutes  he  returned,  a  sheet  of  closely  written 
paper  in  his  hand. 

"What  have  you  done?"  asked  Kingozi. 

"I've  told  'em  I  simply  can't  go,"  replied 
Trelawney.  "I've  told  them  to  recall  Barrows. 
How  can  I  leave  my  people?" 

Kingozi  arose,  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  young 
fellow's  shoulder. 

"I'll  take  your  letter  out,"  he  said,  "and  111 
try  to  arrange  it.  I  think  I  can.  Let  Barrows 
come  in.  He'll  make  you  a  good  assistant,  and 
will  more  than  take  my  place  as  company." 

"You're  not  coming  back?"  said  Trelawney 
blankly. 

"I'm  overdue  now,  son,  I'm  beginning  to 
believe." 


TEN  days  later  Kingozi's  safari  marched  into 
town.  He  had  some  fifteen  or  twenty  of  the 
Sukas  carrying  ivory  and  a  half-dozen  regular 
porters  bearing  his  simple  personal  effects.  Among 
the  latter  was  Simba.  He  wore  his  blanket  turban- 


FORCED    LABOUR  177 

wise  in  approved  fashion;  and  most  of  the  rest 
of  his  figure  was  covered  by  a  greatcoat.  This 
garment  had  originally  been  built  for  English 
winters.  Its  first  owner  had  worn  it  as  far  as 
Port  Said,  and  then  had  laid  it  aside.  He  used 
it  as  a  night  cover  on  the  journey  from  Mombasa 
to  Nairobi,  then  became  thoroughly  disgusted 
with  its  woolly  stuffiness  and  gave  it  to  his  per 
sonal  boy.  Thenceforward  its  vicissitudes  were 
many;  and  it  showed  all  of  them  in  its  appearance. 
Simba  obtained  it  from  Mahrad  at  an  extor 
tionate  price  in  m'wembe.  It  was  very  uncom 
fortable  but  very  honourable.  He  entered  town 
jauntily,  carry  ing  his  sixty-pound  load  like  a 
veteran,  and  his  pride  was  as  the  pride  of  an  army 
with  banners. 

Kingozi  went  at  once  to  Government  House. 

"Here,"  said  he  to  the  Governor,  "is  an  epistle 
from  your  Commissioner  among  the  Sukas,  prob 
ably  indignant  and  perhaps  insulting,  telling 
you  he  doesn't  want  any  vacation  and  telling  you 
to  take  back  your  Barrows  and  throw  him  in  the 
Indian  Ocean.'* 

"But  I  thought  he  wanted  a  vacation!" 


178  SIMBA 

"So  did  he  think  so.  But  now  when  it  came 
to  a  decision  he  talked  of  the  impossibility  of 
leaving  'my  people'!  So  I  realized  I  wasn't 
needed  any  longer.  Here  I  am." 

"There's  no  use  trying  to  tell  you  how  we  ap 
preciate  what  you've  done;  but  I  want  you  to 
understand  that  we  realize  fully.  It's  no  light 
matter,  pacifying  and  bringing  under  Government 
a  hostile  tribe  with  a  handful  of  men.  You  think 
Trelawney's  safe  to  leave?  " 

Kingozi  laughed. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  he's  been  safe  to  leave  for 
a  year  past.  I've  been  hanging  on  after  my  time. 
It  was  a  terrible  wrench  to  leave  when  I  did.  It 
wasn't  love  of  King  or  Country  that  kept  me 
there,  I  assure  you." 

"Plenty  of  ivory?"  suggested  the  Governor. 

"A  little.  But  hard  and  dangerous  hunting. 
It  wasn't  that." 

"No?    What  then?" 

"I  was  just  plain  fond  of  the  young  scoundrel," 
said  Kingozi. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  GUNBEARER 

SIMBA,  son  of  M'Kuni,  spurred  by  ambi 
tion,  came  out  of  the  jungle  at  the  tail 
of  Kingozi,  the  white  man's  safari.     Be 
cause  he  had  laid  aside  his  gorgeous  panoply  of 
savagery,  because  he  had  acquired  some  sketchy, 
ragged,  and  disreputable  white  man's  garments, 
and  because  he  had  carried  a  load  ten  days  over  a 
beaten  track,  he  considered  himself  a  full-fledged 
porter.     In  this  he  found  that  he  had  deceived 
himself. 

For  some  reason  or  another  he  had  imagined 
himself  tied  to  Kingozi  for  life.  Instead  he 
joined  a  queue  of  those  awaiting.  When  his 
turn  came,  he  received  five  rupees  in  silver,  was 
told  briefly  to  keep  Cazi  Moto,  the  headman, 
informed  of  his  whereabouts  and  that  he  would 
receive  employment  at  the  next  opportunity, 
and  was  turned  loose  to  shift  for  himself.  It 

179 


i8o  SIMBA 

was  rather  bewildering.  By  natural  gravitation 
he  finally  landed  at  the  native  village  just  out 
side  the  town.  There  he  made  friends,  and 
found  a  sleeping  place.  But  in  some  myster 
ious  manner  his  five  rupees  had  vanished  with 
out  adequate  return.  This  annoyed  Simba,  but 
did  not  greatly  disturb  him.  But  after  three 
days  of  blithesome  eating  from  the  nearest  pot, 
he  received  the  astonishing  information  that 
such  things  were  not  gratis.  If  he  would  eat, 
he  must  pay.  As  Simba's  total  assets  consisted 
of  a  partial  outfit  of  decrepit  khaki,  a  disrepu 
table  greatcoat,  a  cunningly  contrived  oryx  horn 
trumpet,  and  a  few  tribal  knicknacks,  he  for 
the  first  time  understood  the  meaning  of  eco 
nomic  pressure.  And  rupees  took  on  desirabil 
ity. 

How  get  more  rupees?  He  had  no  idea.  There 
fore  he  hied  himself  away;  and,  as  many  before 
him  had  done,  he  sought  the  low,  single-storied 
hotel  and  the  white  man's  wisdom. 

This  hotel  stood  a  little  back  from  the  street, 
which  was  marked  by  a  white  picket  fence.  In 
side  that  fence  no  native  must  venture  save  on 


THE    GUNBEARER  181 

business.  Outside  it  stood  innumerable  rick 
shaws  ready  to  swoop  in  clouds  should  one  of  the 
loungers  on  the  cool  dark  veranda  show  the 
slightest  inclination  to  fare  forth.  The  bullet- 
headed  Kavirondo  rickshaw  boys  chattered  and 
yelled.  An  unending  procession  streamed  past — 
savages,  women  bearing  burdens  of  firewood, 
local  dandies  in  snow-white  kanzuas,  Europeans. 
Simba  immediately  learned  by -vehement  apprisal 
the  rule  as  to  the  white  picket  fence.  For  the 
rest  of  the  day  he  stood  wistfully  outside,  like  a 
dog,  hoping  that  the  white  man  might  feel  in 
clined  for  a  stroll.  He  could  see  Kingozi  plainly, 
lounging  in  a  teakwood  lazy  chair.  But  Kingozi, 
fresh  to  civilization  after  a  long  sojourn  in  the 
wilderness,  did  not  seem  inclined  to  stir.  Simba 
begged  a  meal,  and  early  the  following  morning 
was  back  at  his  post. 

Again  no  luck.  At  last,  toward  noon,  he  took 
his  courage  in  his  hands,  and  waiting  until  the 
Swahili  major-domo  had  turned  his  back,  ven 
tured  into  the  sacred  precincts.  He  was  almost 
immediately  detected  and  pounced  upon.  In  de 
spair  he  called  loudly  on  Kingozi.  The  latter 


i82  SIMBA 

looked  at  him  attentively,  then  motioned  the 
zealous  and  scandalized  official  one  side. 

"Well?  "he  asked  Simba. 

"I  wish  to  eat,  bwana" 

"Why  don't  you?" 

"I  have  no  food.  And  to  get  food  I  must  have 
white  man's  money.  And  to  get  white  man's 
money  I  must  carry  a  load  on  safari." 

"That  is  very  true,"  said  Kingozi,  a  grim 
amusement  twinkling  in  his  eyes.  "With  five 
rupees  one  can  buy  much  food — food  to  last  three, 
four  moons.  Where  are  the  five  rupees  I  gave 
you?" 

"Bwana"  offered  Simba,  "I  did  not  know  one 
must  have  rupees  to  give  for  food.  So  I  played 
the  game  with  holes  called  bau,  and  my  rupees 
are  gone." 

"I  see,"  remarked  Kingozi;  "what  would  you 
have  me  do?" 

"Do  you  not  go  on  safari  ?" 

"No." 

Simba  looked  perplexed  and  a  little  disheart 
ened. 

"From  here  to  the  villages  of  your  people  is 


THE    GUNBEARER  183 

only  an  eight-day  walk.  The  people  on  the  road 
will  feed  you.  Why  do  you  not,  return  to  your 
villages?" 

"That  I  do  not  wish  to  do,  bwana" 

"Why  not?" 

"In  that  way  I  can  never  become  a  gunbearer." 

"So  that  bee  is  still  buzzing  in  your  bonnet,  is 
it?"  muttered  Kingozi  in  English.  "Well,  I 
do  admire  pluck.  Go  to  Ali,  the  Somali,"  he 
instructed  Simba,  "and  say  to  him  that  I  am 
sending  you  and  that  he  is  to  give  you  potio; 
and  that  on  the  first  safari  where  porters  are 
needed  he  is  to  send  you  out.  He  will  give  you 
potio,  and  from  the  first  rupees  of  your  safari 
he  will  take  his  pay.  Bassi  I" 

Simba  reported  to  Ali,  the  Somali,  a  tall,  slen 
der,  aristocratic  efficient  man  who  recruited  for 
whatever  expeditions  might  be  setting  forth. 
Each  afternoon  thereafter  Simba  received  a  miser 
able  pound  and  a  half  of  potio  which  Ali  entered 
against  him  in  a  little  blank  book  full  of  Arabic 
characters.  Most  of  the  sunny  hours  he  loafed 
against  Ali's  go-down,  waiting  in  company  with 
other  and  merry  spendthrifts  the  godsend  of 


184  SIMBA 

employment.  The  rest  of  the  time  he  wandered 
up  and  down  the  fascinating  bazaars,  or  made 
acquaintance  with  the  varied  life  of  the  place. 
He  learned  in  company  with  older  well-known  por 
ters  the  meaning  of  credit,  and  from  his  own 
efforts  in  the  direction  of  getting  some  the  value  of 
reputation  in  obtaining  it.  He  learned  how 
quickly  the  smiles  fade  from  the  faces  of  the  bazaar 
girls  once  his  financial  status  became  clear.  He 
gazed  upon  lordly  gunbearers,  Cazi  Moto  among 
them,  sitting  on  real  chairs  beneath  the  veranda 
roof  of  Suleimani  the  Blind,  drinking  real  tea, 
and  the  suffering  of  acute  envy  entered  his  soul. 
He  bumped  his  head  hard  against  arbitrary  au 
thority  when  engaged  in  the  most  innocent  of 
enterprises  as  when  he  curled  himself  comfortably 
for  the  night  in  the  hotel  bathtub,  an  admirable 
retreat  discovered  quite  by  accident.  In  short, 
though  he  did  not  know  it,  Simba  was  becoming 
civilized. 

Then  one  day  Ali  emerged  from  the  go-down, 
looked  appraisingly  at  the  men  waiting  in  the 
sun,  beckoned  to  a  number  of  them.  Simba  was 
one  of  those  called. 


THE    GUNBEARER  185 

He  found  himself  furnished  with  a  canteen,  a 
light  jersey,  a  cotton  blanket  of  satisfactory  red, 
a  stout  thin  cord,  and  a  bag  for  potio.  He  was 
assigned  to  a  mess  of  five,  and  the  mess  further 
acquired  a  tiny  cotton  tent  only  a  trifle  larger 
than  a  dog  kennel  and  a  metal  cooking  pot  called 
a  sufuria.  When  the  loads  were  laid  out  in  a 
row  and  assigned,  Simba  drew  a  sack  of  potio. 
One  of  the  older  porters  showed  him  how  to 
bind  on  sticks  in  such  a  manner  as  to  stiffen  this 
exceedingly  floppy  sort  of  load. 

This  safari  was  gone  four  months.  It  was  in 
charge  of  two  white  men  who  might  have  been 
in  Australia  for  all  Simba  had  to  do  with  them. 
Between  himself  and  these  august  personages 
intervened  an  autocracy  of  gunbearers,  personal 
boys,  and  headman.  Simba  was  but  one  of  a 
multitude.  He  carried  his  load,  and  as  he  was  by 
nature  strong,  he  carried  it  well  to  the  front  of 
each  day's  march.  This  being  remarked  by  the 
vigilant  headman,  he  was  promoted  to  a  tent 
load.  It  was  important  that  the  bwanas'  tent 
should  arrive  among  the  first;  while  there  was  no 
hurry  about  a  stray  load  of  potio.  This  tent  load 


i86  SIMBA 

was  rather  awkward  to  carry,  but  it  was  a  great 
honour.  It  raised  Simba  at  once  to  the  aristoc 
racy  of  the  porters.  He  looked  with  contempt 
on  the  miserable  kikuyus  who  invariably  brought 
up  the  rear.  He  had  acquired  a  cheap  pipe  and 
a  swagger.  At  one  bound  he  had  reached  the 
top  rank  of  that  particular  profession.  As  yet 
he  did  not  realize  that  the  qualifications  for  the 
top  rank  were  merely  a  strong  neck  and  a  reason 
able  determination  to  keep  up  with  the  procession. 

When  camp  was  reached  Simba  had  to  assist 
in  pitching  the  tent;  he  helped  unfold  the  cots 
and  chairs.  Occasionally,  but  not  very  often,  he 
was  required  to  bring  in  wood,  or  to  go  with  the 
white  men  after  meat.  The  latter  occupation  was 
entertaining  and  profitable.  It  furnished  both 
amusement  and  the  chance  of  tucking  away  under 
one's  jersey  some  tit-bit  from  the  slain  animal. 

After  these  duties  were  finished  Simba  was 
free.  He  joined  his  friends  about  the  fire  where 
steamed  the  sufuria.  There  he  luxuriated  in 
warmth,  food,  and  nakedness.  Like  all  the 
other  porters,  during  the  heat  of  the  day  and 
beneath  a  sixty-pound  load  Simba  wore  every 


THE    GUNBEARER  187 

garment  he  possessed,  including  the  heavy  winter 
overcoat;  but  when  night's  coolness. f ell  he  stripped 
to  the  skin.  By  the  fire  he  swapped  tremendous 
tales,  sang  to  himself  in  a  weird  minor  falsetto, 
dipped  into  the  sufuria,  and  generally  gloried  in 
himself.  About  as  he  was  getting  rested  and 
interested  one  of  the  white  men  yelled  "Kddet" 
from  his  tent.  Then  everybody  had  to  keep 
quiet.  Simba  would  not  have  traded  his  life  for 
the  old  savage  days.  Already  he  looked  upon  the 
shenzis  as  immeasurably  beneath  him. 

This  trip  was  not  a  hard  one.  They  moved 
camp  ten  or  twelve  miles  every  few  days,  and 
then  the  two  white  men  performed  mysterious 
magic  with  various  instruments  on  three  legs. 
Sometimes  Simba  had  to  carry  one  of  these 
instruments.  It  was  not  heavy;  not  much  heavier 
than  a  gun.  As  Simba  was,  like  all  natives,  much 
of  a  small  boy  at  heart,  he  pretended  it  was  a 
gun.  For  this  reason  he  took  especial  care  of  the 
thing.  After  a  time  the  white  men,  noting  the 
care  though  ignorant  of  the  reason  for  it,  instructed 
the  headman  that  Simba  must  hereafter  always  be 
included  in  the  surveying  parties.  Occasionally, 


i88  SIMBA 

after  the  tripod  was  set  up,  Simba  was  handed  a 
bona-nde  gun  to  hold.  Those  were  great  moments. 

The  consequence  of  all  this  was  that  Simba 
returned  to  Nairobi  considerably  advanced.  He 
had  become  accustomed  to  carrying  a  full  load 
and  had  learned  the  porters'  tricks  of  easing 
himself  under  his  burden;  he  had  absorbed  camp 
routine;  and  he  had  attracted  sufficient  attention 
to  himself  so  that  when  the  men  were  paid  off  he 
received  a  few  words  of  commendation  and  two 
extra  rupees  by  way  of  baksheeshi. 

After  ascertaining  that  Kingozi  was  away  in 
the  land  of  the  Inglishi,  Simba  proceeded  to 
acquire  knowledge  of  the  purchasing  power  of  a 
pesij  the  market  value  of  bazaar  goods,  the 
exhilarating  properties  of  tembo,  the  remarkable 
friendliness  of  bazaar  girls,  and  the  evanescence 
of  great  riches.  For  the  twenty-two  rupees,  that 
Simba  had  vaguely  looked  upon  as  provision  to 
late  middle  age  at  least,  miraculously  vanished  in 
about  two  weeks.  And  Simba  still  a  young  man! 

No  help  for  it!  Back  to  Ali,  the  Somali,  and 
the  bread  line! 

For  his  next  employment,  fortunately,  he  had 


THE    GUNBEARER  189 

to  wait  only  about  a  week.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
lacking  Kingozi's  renewed  endorsement  Ali  the 
Somali  would  long  have  advanced  potio  to  a  com 
paratively  unknown  man.  Then  Simba  would 
have  been  thrown  on  the  cold  world  in  good 
truth! 

This  safari  was  a  one-man  affair.  It  lasted 
three  terrible  months  on  every  day  of  which  a 
march  was  made.  The  route  was  through  a 
desert  country  where  often  water  was  scarce. 
Some  days'  journeys  had  to  be  ten,  twelve,  even 
fourteen  miles  long.  Men  straggled,  gave  out 
under  the  sun.  Other  men  had  to  be  sent  back 
from  camp,  often  late  at  night,  to  succour  them 
with  water  and  to  help  carry  in  their  loads.  The 
fever  was  bad.  Rhinoceros  were  numerous,  and 
Simba  learned  to  jump  for  the  thorn  trees  at  the 
first  snort  of  the  outrageous  beasts.  Great 
stretches  of  country  were  unpopulated;  and  often 
the  potio  supply  fell  so  low  that  the  men  were  on 
half  rations.  There  was  plenty  of  grumbling, 
plenty  of  sickness,  considerable  flogging.  The 
white  man  was  grim,  implacable,  and  unapproach 
able.  Nobody  entertained  for  him  the  slightest 


ioo  SIMBA 

affection;  yet  he  was  just,  efficient  and  possessed 
great  driving  force.  Many  times  Simba  wished 
himself  safely  back  in  the  old  idle  life.  He 
wondered  why  he  had  ever  left  it.  The  ease  of 
the  previous  safari  faded  from  his  memory;  the 
delights  of  rupees  and  the  bazaar  grew  dim.  He 
made  up  his  mind  that  if  he  ever  got  out  of  this 
he  would  stay  out.  Most  of  the  other  porters 
were  making  the  same  resolve.  In  that  they  did 
not  differ  from  Simba.  But  there  was  this  differ 
ence:  whereas  they  became  slack  and  neglectful  as 
a  result  of  the  resolves,  Simba  continued  to  do  his 
work  well.  And  when  volunteers  were  called  upon 
to  go  back  in  the  darkness  for  the  weaklings  who 
had  fallen  behind,  Simba  always  stepped  forward. 
Why?  It  would  be  impossible  to  say.  Certainly 
from  no  excess  of  moral  virtue.  Perhaps  the 
ascendency  of  the  white  man  had  got  into  his 
blood,  so  that  even  here  the  childlike  desire  to 
"show  off"  had  its  force;  or  perhaps  it  was  the 
difference  in  moral  fibre  that  everywhere  in  the 
world  separates  the  individual  from  the  herd. N 

In  any  case,  when  at  last  the  battered,  gaunt, 
wearied  caravan  dropped  its  loads  before  All's 


THE    GUNBEARER  191 

go-down,  and  the  men  lined  up  before  the  table 
to  receive  their  wages,  the  white  man,  hard  but 
just  as  ever,  detained  Simba. 

"Ali,"  said  he  crisply  to  the  Somali,  "this  is  a 
good  man.  Remember  him.  He  is  the  best  of 
my  porters."  And  then  to  Simba,  "I  have  been 
pleased  with  you.  Here  is  baksheeshi  m'kubwa, 
and  in  addition  you  may  have  my  canvas  coat. 
Come  to  the  hotel  for  it." 

Simba  found  himself  possessed  of  twenty-five 
rupees — for  three  months,  mind  you.  A  moment 
before  he  had  hated  this  white  man,  and  he  had 
entertained  a  profound  determination  to  eschew 
all  white  man's  works.  Now  he  walked  away  with 
his  head  in  the  air.  He  felt  quite  the  grandest  of 
created  things  for  about  five  minutes;  or  until  he 
came  within  eye  range  of  the  stone  veranda  of 
Suleimani  the  Blind.  Then  when  he  saw  the 
headman  and  gunbearers  sitting  in  genuine  chairs 
and  drinking  bona-fide  tea,  his  pride  fell.  For  an 
envious  minute  he  stared  at  this  remote  and 
haughty  gathering.  As  he  turned  away  he 
registered  in  his  heart  the  native  equivalent  for 
"Pike's  Peak  or  Bust." 


SIMBA 


II 

OWING  to  the  fact  that  Simba  had  been  es 
pecially  recommended  to  Ali  by  his  last  employer, 
he  did  not  wait  long  for  his  next  job.  In  fact, 
but  two  days  had  passed  when  the  Somali  sum 
moned  him.  As  Simba  had  most  of  his  rupees 
still  remaining  he  objected  strongly.  But  All 
would  not  listen. 

"This  is  the  son  of  a  king,"  he  said,  "and  it  is  a 
mighty  safari.  You  must  go." 

So  Simba  went,  and  found  himself  an  insig 
nificant  unit  in  the  multitude. 
'  For  once  Ali  had  not  exaggerated.  It  was  in 
reality  the  son  of  a  king,  indeed  a  crown  prince 
whose  habitat  must  be  concealed  under  the  gen 
eral  term  "of  foreign  extraction."  He  had  come 
to  Africa  for  a  big-game  shoot  in  the  furtherance 
of  which  he  brought  with  him  a  valet,  a  physician, 
two  assorted  equerrys  in  waiting  or  some  such 
creature,  a  whole  battery  of  firearms,  three  full 
cases  of  ammunition,  over  fifty  "chop  boxes" 
containing  food  and  drink,  an  even  dozen  tin 
uniform  cases,  and  two  lap-dogs  in  baskets.  The 


THE    GUNBEARER  193 

crown  prince  was  not  a  bad  sort  of  a  chap,  but  he 
did  not  know  any  better;  and  he  failed  to  realize 
that  here  was  his  one  God-given  chance  for 
simplicity  in  a  stifled  life.  He  was  met  at  the 
steamship  by  a  delegation.  He  came  up  the 
Uganda  Railway  by  private  train.  He  was  made 
much  of  at  Government  House  and  elsewhere. 
And  finally  he  took  the  field  on  the  best  horse  yet 
imported  into  a  horseless  land.  He  was  followed 
by  three  hundred  porters,  twenty  askaris  or  native 
troops,  the  staff,  and  six  ox-wagons  carrying  three 
thousand  pounds  apiece.  Each  evening  he  ate 
and  drank  through  a  regular  course  dinner  with 
appropriate  wines.  People  called  him  Your  High 
ness  and  backed  away  from  him.  The  two  cap 
able  Englishmen  who  had  the  show  in  charge 
toiled  and  sweated  to  keep  the  caravan  running 
smoothly.  They  were  old  Afrikanders  and  did  not 
like  it;  but  they  were  very  well  paid  and  they  did 
their  job.  Camp  was  an  imposing  sight,  what 
with  the  big  tent,  and  the  medium-sized  tents,  and 
all  the  little  tents,  and  the  innumerable  fires,  and 
the  royal  standard  flopping  lazily  in  the  evening 
breeze.  And  on  the  march  it  extended  in  along 


i94  SIMBA 

line  miles  across  the  country.  The  white  men 
rode  in  advance;  the  personal  staff  trudged  im 
mediately  behind;  the  porters  howled  and  sang 
and  blew  horns  and  beat  their  loads  with  their 
safari-sticks  j  the  ox- wagons  creaked  lumberingly 
and  bumpily;  the  askaris  marched  very  straight; 
the  various  headmen  ran  back  and  forth  waving 
their  kibokos,  and  the  people  of  the  country  stared 
their  eyes  out.  I  tell  you  it  was  something  to  be 
long  to  such  a  regal  and  splendiferous  show;  even 
if  you  were  only  an  unremarked  one  of  three 
hundred! 

The  only  elements  of  the  universe  unimpressed 
were  the  wild  animals.  Apparently  they  did  not 
care  a  picayune  whether  the  individual  rather 
awkwardly  attempting  an  approach  was  a  royalty 
or  an  ordinary  citizen.  And  as  the  Crown  Prince 
had  been  accustomed  all  his  life  to  instant  defer 
ence,  this  annoyed  him.  He  seemed  to  think  that 
common  respect  would  cause  these  beasts  to  hold 
still  to  be  killed.  And  as  the  success  of  the  expe 
dition  was  in  the  responsibility  of  the  two  hard- 
worked  Afrikanders,  they,  too,  were  anxious  and 
unnoyed. 


THE    GUNBEARER  195 

But  the  drawbacks  to  perfect  happiness  did  not 
affect  Simba  in  the  least.  For  the  first  time  he 
enjoyed  to  the  full  all  the  advantages  of  a  porter's 
life.  The  marches  were  short;  the  country  was 
easy  (never  do  to  take  any  chances  with  royalty) ; 
the  camping  places  were  known  in  advance;  the 
camp  work  was  practically  nil  with  so  many  to 
share  it;  the  food  and  the  equipment  were  mag 
nificent  and  unaccustomed;  and  the  prestige  of 
belonging J;o  such  an  aggregation  gave  him  among 
the  tribes  through  which  the  route  lay  a  standing 
thoroughly  satisfying  to  the  heart.  Simba  wal 
lowed  in  ease,  luxury,  and  vaingloriousness. 

The  unwieldy  procession  made  its  way  'to  the 
c^uth,  passing  the  Thirst  indifferently  because  of 
huge  especial  water  tanks,  arriving  at  last  in  a 
country  of  game  so  unsophisticated  that  not  only 
did  it  know  nothing  about  royalty,  but  its  ideas 
as  to  firearms  were  negligible.  As  soon  as  the  two 
Englishmen  persuaded  their  charge  to  quit  fuss 
ing  with  patent  adjustable  telescopic  sights  and 
similar  complicated  sportsman  inventions  made 
especially  for  crown  princes  and  other  wealthy 
greenhorns,  his  Royal  Highness  began  to  have  some 


196  S I M  B  A 

success.  And  every  time  he  killed  anything  he 
especially  wanted,  he  distributed  baksheeshi  or 
gave  a  feast. 

One  evening  the  runners  who  regularly  brought 
in  the  royal  mail  happened  to  drift  to  the  camp- 
fire  by  which  Simba  lay.  They  had  all  the  latest 
news  from  Nairobi,  and  were  therefore  always 
welcome  to  hospitality.  Among  other  things 
one  of  them  said: 

"Kingozi,  the  man  who  fights  the  elephant,  has 
come  back  from  the  land  of  the  Inglishi,  and  he 
collects  a  safari." 

That  night  Simba  made  a  little  bundle  of  his 
effects  and  of  some  food,  and  stole  out  of  camp. 
This  was  a  dangerous  thing  to  do,  as  Simba  well 
knew.  The  lions  and  other  beasts,  attracted  by 
the  frequent  kills  necessary  to  feed  so  large  a 
multitude,  had  gathered  in  numbers.  Simba 
proceeded  as  rapidly  as  he  could  for  a  mile  or  so; 
then,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  climbed  a  tree.  At  first 
streak  of  dawn  he  was  down  and  away. 

It  took  Simba  nine  days  to  get  to  Nairobi. 
The  country  through  which  he  had  to  pass  was 
barren,  and  the  water  holes  infrequent.  In 


THE    GUNBEARER  197 

addition  the  Masai,  who  inhabited  it,  would  have 
been  delighted  to  have  speared  Simba  on  sight. 
Even  for  one  so  recently  emerged  from  savagery, 
it  was  a  notable  feat.  Nevertheless,  Simba  ar 
rived  somewhat  gaunt,  scratched,  and  sleepless. 
To  his  relief  he  found  that  Kingozi's  safari  had 
not  yet  departed. 

At  the  go-down  of  Ali  the  Somali  he  found  the 
white  man  superintending  the  packing  of  his  out 
fit.  Simba  offered  himself. 

But  at  that  moment  Ali  came  up,  recognized 
him,  and  proffered  the  natural  question  of  what 
he  was  doing  there.  Simba,  being  as  yet  a  guile 
less  soul,  told  the  truth.  He  had  been  with  the 
safari  of  that  king:  it  was  an  easy  safari;  but  he 
had  heard 'that  Kingozi  was  to  make  a  journey: 
he  preferred  to  go  with  Kingozi. 

He  finished  to  meet  a  disconcerting  stare.  Kin 
gozi  seemed  more  aloof,  more  uncompromising, 
more  terrible  than  ever.  And  yet  in  the  depths 
of  his  eyes  was  kindly  interest  too. 

"Pay  attention,  Simba,"  he  said.  "You  have 
told  me  that  you  wanted  to  be  a  gunbearer. 
That  is  so?" 


198  SIMBA 

"Yes,  bwana,"  cried  Simba,  his  heart  leaping. 
He  saw  himself  promoted  in  recognition  of  his 
devotion. 

"And  I  have  told  you  that  there  were  many 
things  a  gunbearer  must  learn.  One  of  them  is 
that  he  must  never  leave  his  white  man." 

"No,  bwana"  agreed  Simba  cheerfully. 

"You  have  left  your  white  man!"  accused 
Kingozi  sharply. 

But  Simba's  logic  was  still  undisturbed. 

"He  is  not  my  white  man.  You  are  my  white 
man,"  he  said. 

However,  Kingozi  soon  crushed  that  notion. 
He  delivered  the  obvious  elementary  homily  on 
loyalty  to  an  undertaking.  Simba  understood  at 
last. 

"And  now,"  commanded  Kingozi  in  conclusion. 
"You  must  go  back  to  that  safari,  at  once;  the 
way  you  came.  You  must  go  to  the  headman 
and  you  must  eat  kiboko.  If  you  do  not  do  this 
thing,  then  never  must  you  come  to  me  again." 

"But,  bwana,  when  this  safari  returns,  then  you 
will  be  away  on  your  journey!"  wailed  Simba. 
"  "That  is  true,"  said  Kingozi. 


THE    GUNBEARER  199 

"It  will  be  a  long  journey?"  ventured  Sirnba 
hopefully. 

"Very  long,"  replied  Kingozi  uncompromis 
ingly. 

The  hope  died. 

Simba  stood  silent  for  some  moments,  then 
he  stooped  and  picked  up  his  bundle. 

"Qua  heri,  bwana"  he  said  dispiritedly. 

Without  further  words  he  turned  away. 

Kingozi  called  Cazi  Moto  to  his  side. 

"Follow  that  young  man  and  see  what  he  does," 
he  commanded. 

Cazi  Moto  returned  within  the  half  hour. 

"Well?"  asked  Kingozi. 

"He  went  first  to  the  bazaar,"  reported  Cazi 
Moto.  "He  had  money.  There  he  bought  meal, 
dried  meat,  and  tobacco." 

"And   then?" 

"Then  he  took  the  road  to  N'Gong,  to  the 
country  of  the  Masai." 

Ill 

SIMBA  had  another  devil  of  a  trip  back.  It  is  no 
light  task  to  make  one's  way  alone  and  unarmed 


200  SIMBA 

through  a  dry  country  full  of  hostile  men  and 
dangerous  beasts.  Especially  is  this  true  when 
the  heart  burns  with  hurt  resentment.  You  have 
seen  a  dog  commanded  to  return  home  by  a  master 
bound  for  places  where  dogs  are  undesired?  He 
goes,  but  he  wonders  why.  Simba  went  but  he 
wondered  why.  And  he  was  so  hurt  and  angry 
that  he  was  not  very  far  from  caring  whether  he 
got  caught  or  not.  Still  he  was  not  so  far  gone 
as  to  omit  precautions!  He  made  five  days  of  his 
journey,  then  had  the  good  luck  to  fall  in  with 
Government  runners.  They  were  safe.  At  first 
they  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  Simba; 
but  when  they  found  that  he,  too,  was  headed  for 
the  encampment  of  the  kingi,  they  grudgingly 
allowed  him  to  join  them — provided  he  kept  up. 
And  then  they  set  a  stiff  pace  just  to  test  that. 
Simba  kept  up.  Not  for  nothing  had  he  served 
his  apprenticeship  as  Trelawney's  guard  among 
the  Suka.  When  Trelawney  had  sent  a  message 
he  had  expected  speed. 

Arrived  at  the  encampment  Simba  reported 
to  his  mess,  and  was  promptly  taken  in  charge 
by  the  headman  of  his  division.  The  crime  was 


THE    GUNBEARER  201 

heinous,  so  in  due  time  he  appeared  before  one 
of  the  white  men.  The  latter,  exceedingly  wearied 
in  spirit  by  the  constant  small/  annoyances  in 
cidental  to  such  an  unwieldy  outfit,  listened  just 
long  enough  to  understand  the  charge,  recognized 
it  as  one  of  the  temporary  desertions  so  common 
among  safari  men,  made  no  attempt  to  probe 
further,  ordered  twenty-five  kiboko,  and  passed 
on  to  the  next  trouble. 

Simba  had  never  before  taken  punishment. 
He  had  seen  it,  however,  and  knew  what  was  ex 
pected  of  him.  He  underwent  the  flogging  with 
out  making  a  sound,  and  when  it  was  finished 
sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  grin  and  a  yell.  Thereby 
he  gained  the  respect  of  the  attentive  bystanders 
and  of  the  askari  who  had  laid  on;  for  twenty- 
five  is  no  light  punishment.  Sore  in  body  and 
spirit  Simba  returned  to  his  mess  and  resumed 
his  duties. 

The  savour  had  gone  out  of  this  expedition. 
Simba  hated  every  man  of  the  lot,  from  his  Royal 
Highness  down  to  the  cook's  toto.  He  looked 
with  bitter  and  sneering  satisfaction  on  the  rather 
blundering  sportsmanship.  He  gained  no  com- 


202  S I M  B  A 

fort  from  the  easy  life,  the  abundant  food,  the 
hilarious  association  with  the  picked  men  of  his 
profession.  Among  the  rank  and  file,  of  course, 
was  no  intimation  of  how  long  the  expedition  was 
to  last,  nor  whither  its  itinerary  would  lead. 
Simba  counted  the  days  grudgingly;  resented 
each  mile  of  progress  forward;  rejoiced  mightily 
when,  as  happened  several  times,  the  route  bent 
back  on  an  apparent  return.  And  each  time  the 
ensuing  disappointment  rendered  him  more  fiercely 
sullen.  He  was  not  a  popular  companion.  In 
deed  there  is  no  saying  that  he  might  not  have 
become  a  quarrelsome,  even  a  dangerous  com 
panion,  had  not  His  Highness — through  aid 
tacitly  ignored  of  a  hatful  of  cartridges  expended 
by  his  white  hunters — at  last  decided  that  he  was 
satisfied.  The  safari  turned  back. 

The  return  to  Nairobi  seemed  interminable 
but  at  last  it  was  accomplished.  Simba's  first  act 
after  receiving  his  rupees  was  to  inquire  after 
Kingozi.  He  learned  that  the  Fighter  of  Ele 
phants,  at  the  head  of  thirty  men  only,  had  three 
weeks  previously  started  northwest.  Nobody 
JK^w  where  he  was  bound  or  when  he  would  re- 


THE    GUNBEARER  203 

turn.  Then  and  there  Simba  came  to  a  resolve. 
He  took  his  rupees,  including  those  still  left  over 
from  his  former  expedition,  and  with  them  called 
upon  Ali,  the  Somali. 

"Here,"  he  said  to  Ali,  "are  forty-nine  rupees 
and  sixteen  pesi.  If  I  keep  them  they  will  not 
last  long;  I  shall  play  the  game  with  holes,  or  I 
shall  spend  them  in  the  bazaar.  Do  you  keep 
them  for  me;  and  each  week  when  I  come  to  you, 
do  you  give  me  fifty  pesi  only.  In  that  man 
ner  I  may  live  on  my  rupees  for  a  long  time." 

Ali's  thin,  expressive  face  was  bent  on  him  in 
amused  comprehension. 

"That  shall  be  done,"  he  agreed,  taking  the 
money.  "Soon  I  will  have  another  safari  for  you." 

"I  shall  not  go  on  another  safari  until  Bwana 
Kingozi  returns,"  stated  Simba  with  decision, 
"for  thus  once  again  will  I  miss  going  with  his 
safari." 

AH  laughed  aloud. 

"Nevertheless,"  he  said  deliberately,  "after 
three  days'  repose  you  will  come  here  and  I  will 
give  you  one  load  of  trade  goods.  This  you  and 
another  man  who  knows  the  way  will  carry  to  the 


204  SIMBA 

camp   of  a  bwana   who   is  seven  days'  march 
away." 

"I  shall  not  do  this,"  said  Simba  sullenly. 

"You  will  do  it,"  insisted  Ali  with  calm. 
"Otherwise  you  may  return  to  your  shenzis,  for 
never  will  you  go  on  safari  again,  neither  that  of 
Bwana  Kingozi  nor  of  anyone  else." 

Simba  chewed  the  cud  of  this  bitterly. 

"This  is  only  to  carry  the  load  to  the  white 
man?"  he  asked  at  length,  "then  I  may  return 
immediately?" 

"If  you  care  to  do  so,  you  may  return  at 
once,"  Ali  assured  him. 

Simba  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"7  zuzu  !"  he  assented. 

Ali's  face  wrinkled  in  a  smile. 

"That  is  well;  there  is  much  baksheeshi"  he 
said,  "the  bwana  has  arranged  it." 

Two  days  later  Simba  started  out  with  the  one 
load  of  trade  goods  and  the  other  man.  The 
latter  proved  to  be  a  silent,  uncommunicative  crea 
ture.  He  not  only  refused  to  indicate  the  route  or 
the  destination,  but  he  declined  to  talk  at  all. 
He  might  be  dumb.  After  fifty  friendly  attempts 


THE    GUNBEARER  205 

Simba  became  disgusted  and  himself  relapsed  into 
unbroken  silence.  It  was  all  of  a  piece  with  the 
same  disheartening  business.  The  world  was 
sombre  with  annoyance  and  bad  luck.  He  made 
his  marches  doggedly,  his  camps  resentfully.  As 
to  the  country,  he  paid  attention  in  view  of  his 
return  journey  alone — which  he  resolved  would 
be  very  promptly  undertaken.  They  took  turns 
carrying  the  load. 

Because  of  his  frame  of  mind  Simba  was  not 
inclined  to  permit  of  much  lingering  on  the  road. 
He  wanted  to  get  this  over  with  as  soon  as  possible: 
and  he  made  up  his  mind  that,  once  back  in 
the  bazaars,  Ali  would  have  very  little  to  say  as 
to  his  future  movements.  Ordinarily  unsuper- 
vised  natives  on  such  an  errand  as  this  take 
their  own  good  time  to  it.  Through  a  peace 
able  country  they  proceed  just  as  slowly  as  they 
dare,  making  sociable  visits  on  the  way,  stopping 
with  friends.  But  this  dour  pair  travelled  at  ex 
press  rate. 

As  a  consequence,  the  afternoon  of  the  fifth  day 
found  them  surmounting  a  long  low  ridge  from 
which  was  visible  the  meandering  line  of  green 


206  SIMBA 

that  marked  out  a  water  course  through  a  thorny 
and  arid  land.  Simba's  companion  stopped  and 
pointed  to  irregularly  placed  dots  of  white. 

"Campi  ya  bwana,"  he  announced. 

They  descended  the  rocky  slope,  crossed  the 
bottom  land,  and  so  came  to  the  tents.  Simba 
looked  them  over  with  but  slight  interest.  He 
saw  that  it  was  a  small  safari.  However,  the  de 
tails  were  to  him  a  matter  of  profound  indifference. 
He  intended  to  get  out  of  that  just  as  soon  as  he 
could. 

It  happened  to  be  his  turn  to  carry  the  load. 
With  the  idea  of  getting  the  whole  thing  over  at 
once,  he  made  his  way  directly  to  the  green  double 
tent  of  the  white  man.  Its  owner  was  seated  in 
front  beneath  the  fly.  Simba  could  make  out  his 
legs.  He  carried  the  load  around  to  the  entrance, 
eased  it  to  the  ground,  and  looked  up  sullenly 
to  meet  Kingozi's  amused  eyes. 

"Bwana I"  gasped  Simba;  and  remained  star 
ing. 

"Jambo,  Simba,"  greeted  Kingozi.  "So  you 
have  come.  That  means  that  you  have  faithfully 
performed  your  cazi  with  the  great  bwana;  for 


THE    GUNBEARER  207 

I  commanded  All  that  only  if  you  returned  to  that 
safari  and  did  your  duty  well  were,  you  to  be  sent 
on  to  me." 

Simba's  dazed  eyes  turned.  He  saw  his  late 
travelling  companion  grinning  at  his  elbow.  He 
saw  his  old  envy,  Cazi  Moto,  in  the  background 
likewise  grinning.  He  looked  down  at  the  load 
he  had  carried. 

"Open  it,"  commanded  Kingozi. 

Simba,  still  dazed,  fumblingly  undid  the  cords. 
On  top  of  a  number  of  packages  lay  a  complete 
khaki  uniform,  a  new  hat,  a  leather  belt,  a  shiny 
new  knife,  a  sharpening  stone  in  a  sheath,  blue 
spiral  puttees ,  a  felt-covered  water  bottle,  and  a 
magnificent  genuine  three-rupee  blanket.  Kin 
gozi  was  speaking: 

"Ali  told  you  that  you  could  return  after  bring 
ing  in  this  load.  Do  you  wish  to  do  so,  or  do  you 
wish  to  join  my  safari  ?  " 

"Let  me  stay  with  you,  bwana" 

"Very  well,"  said  Kingozi,  a  very  kindly  smile 
illuminating  his  ordinarily  grave  countenance. 
"In  that  case  take  these  things  lying  before  you. 
They  are  yours." 


SIMBA 

"Mine,  bwana  ?"  repeated  Simba  wonderingly. 
There  must  be  some  mistake.  These  were  of  a 
magnificence  beyond  the  hope  of  any  one  but  a 
Cazi  Moto. 

"Yours,"  said  Kingozi.  He  reached  back  his 
hand,  and  Cazi  Moto  laid  in  it  the  light  rifle  of 
everyday  shooting.  Kingozi  in  turn  held  it  out 
to  Simba.  "  Clean  this  carefully,"  he  said  casually. 
"It  has  been  shot  to-day.  The  cleaning  things 
are  in  your  tent." 

Simba  took  the  weapon  reverently.  Even  yet 
he  did  not  understand. 

"I  have  made  Cazi  Moto  the  headman  of  all 
my  affairs,"  said  Kingozi,  seeing  this.  "Here 
after  you  shall  be  my  gunbearer." 

Late  that  evening  the  deep  silence  that  Kin- 
gozi's  command  of  kalele  had  imposed  upon  the 
camp  was  broken  by  a  high,  wavering  falsetto  of 
joyous  song.  It  was  suddenly  hushed  by  Kin- 
gozi's  stern  summons.  Cazi  Moto  glided  to  the 
tent. 

"Who  dared  disobey  my  order?"  demanded 
Kingozi. 


THE    GUNBEARER  209 

"It  was  Simba  who  said  he  forgot,"  replied 
Cazi  Moto.  "  Shall  he  be  punished?  " 

"What  do  you  think,  Cazi  Moto?"  asked 
Kingozi. 

"I  think  he  is  very  young  and  his  heart  is 
happy,"  replied  little  wizened  old  Cazi  Moto. 

"I  think,  so,  too,"  said  Kingozi  with  a  sigh. 


CHAPTER  VII 
MUTUAL  RESPECT 

SIMBA,  gunbearer  to  Kingozi — the  Master 
with  the  Beard,  alias  the  Fighter  of 
Elephants,  alias  John  Culbertson — sat 
taking  his  ease  on  the  veranda  of  the  inn  belong 
ing  to  that  Somali  publican  known  as  Suleimani 
the  Blind.  He  sat  in  a  real  chair  and  near  his  right 
hand  stood  a  cup  of  real  tea.  Simba  had  just 
returned  from  an  eight  months'  trip  into  the 
French  Congo,  eight  months  of  heat,  thirst,  fever, 
cruel  marches,  wild  savages,  sleepless  vigilance, 
utter  patience,  and  the  cold,  long  fear  of  the 
elephant  forest.  Only  the  day  before  the  caravan 
had  marched  into  town,  inconceivably  ragged,  but 
with  heads  up,  voices  chanting,  safari  sticks  tap- 
tap-tapping  the  burdens,  each  man  bedecked  with 
ostrich  plumes,  bits  of  skin,  bright  ornaments 
carried  hidden  all  these  months.  It  was  a  wonder 
ful  moment!  The  chant  swelled  grandly,  the 

210 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  211 

oryx-horn  trumpets  blared.  Little  naked  children 
ran  alongside  shouting,  men  of  alj  tribes  came  to 
the  street,  and  the  women  had  made  eyes  from 
the  doorways.  A  grand  moment!  Bwana  Kingozi 
had  marched  ahead,  his  heavy  shoulders  stooped, 
as  always;  his  eyes  staring,  apparently  sightless, 
straight  ahead;  his  beard  thrust  forward  by  the 
aggression  of  his  jaw;  the  glasses  swinging 
rhythmically  across  his  great  chest;  the  light  rifle 
resting  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm.  And  then  he, 
Simba,  gunbearer,  with  Bunduki  M'Kubwa,  the 
great  elephant  gun!  After  that,  of  course,  the 
safari. 

At  the  corner  of  the  bazaar  another  bwana 
addressed  Kingozi,  and  the  parade  halted.  Simba 
understood  not  one  word,  but  he  knew  pas 
sionately  that  high  converse  was  forward.  He 
stood  proudly  at  attention,  his  head  high,  his  fierce 
eyes  rolling. 

"Hello,  Culbertson,"  the  white  man  had  said, 
"are  you  godfather  to  this  bally  circus  parade?" 

"These  are  my  special  pet  lunatics,"  Kingozi 
had  replied.  "They  had  a  hard  trip  and  I  can't 
begrudge  them  this  fun." 


SIMBA 

"I  know,"  said  the  other  sympathetically, 
"makes  a  man  feel  like  a  silly  ass  just  the  same. 
My  sympathy.  You've  got  a  topping  lot  of  ivory. 
Where  you  been?  " 

"French  Congo." 

And  the  procession  had  resumed  its  triumphal 
course. 

In  the  big  tin  go-down  the  well-wrapped  tusks 
and  the  battered  camp  equipment  had  been 
deposited.  Then  from  an  incredible  sack  of  silver 
rupees  each  man  had  been  paid  his  due,  and  an 
appropriate  backsheeshi,  and  had  eagerly  departed 
for  the  alluring  bazaar.  So  it  is  the  whole  world 
over — miner,  cowboy,  lumber-jack,  trapper,  pros 
pector,  safari-man — wanderers  of  the  wild  and 
lonely  places.  When  they  hit  town  they  go  out 
for  a  "time."  The  reaction  is  exactly  propor 
tionate  to  the  strain  that  has  been.  With  the 
eager  lust  for  celebration  burning  in  their  hearts 
the  Africans  scurried  away. 

And  their  idea  of  the  most  gorgeous,  soul- 
satisfying,  extraordinary  contrast,  corresponding 
to  the  roulette-whiskey-woman  combination  of 
their  wilderness  brothers  elsewhere,  was  this: 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  213 

they  who  had  squatted  on  their  heels,  to  sit  in 
a  white  man's  chair;  they  who  ,had  looked  up 
from  the  lowly  places,  to  look  down  lordly  upon 
the  passing  throng  from  the  elevation  of  a  bona- 
fide  raised  veranda;  they  who  had  eaten  of 
straight  corn-meal  potio  and  saltless  wild  meat,  to 
drink  that  unattainable,  daily  desirable,  symbolic, 
forbidden,  unhoped-for  tea  just  like  a  white  man! 
Debauch  is  usually  violent  reaction  against  the 
monotonous  accustomed.  This  was  the  safari- 
man's  debauch! 

Supply  follows  demand.  A  lumber  or  mining 
or  cow  town  is  often  little  more  than  a  collection 
of  saloons,  gambling  dens,  or  disreputable  houses. 
So  the  Somali  quarter  of  the  bazaar  consisted 
largely  of  wide,  high,  and  open  verandas  backed 
by  mere  apologies  for  houses  furnished  with 
lounging  chairs  and  tea  tables.  Here,  dressed  in 
snowy  white  kanzua,  the  professional  safari-m&n 
lolled — at  a  price  like  unto  the  price  of  "forty-rod 
whiskey"  out  West.  When  his  last  cent  was 
gone  he  looked  for  another  job.  Which  is  all 
rather  childlike  and  a  little  touching,  is  H 
not? 


2i4;  SIMBA 

II 

SIMBA,  fresh  his  eight  months,  was  unbelievably 
wealthy.  Gunbearers'  wages  are  very  high.  But 
then  gunbearers  are  a  caste,  with  an  especial  and 
cunning  knowledge  of  game,  of  tracking,  of  the 
proper  cleaning  of  guns,  skinning  of  specimens, 
butchering  of  meat,  pitching  of  tents,  and  a 
hundred  other  such  matters.  They  are  called 
upon  to  risk  their  lives  rather  frequently.  ?  Such 
matters  as  staunchness,  loyalty,  and  absolute 
courage  are  taken  for  granted.  To  fail  in  any  of 
these  things  is  not  only  a  disgrace  to  one's  self  but 
one's  professional  mates  who  are  a  proud,  heavy- 
handed,  and  vindictive  lot.  \  One  may  not  lightly 
become  a  gunbearer  even  by  the  taking  of  thought 
for  there  are  a  dozen  requisites  that  have  little  to 
do  with  thought — such  as  passionate  loyalty,  for 
example.  Simba  was  one  of  the  best.  He  com 
manded  the  equivalent  of  eight  dollars  a  month. 
Even  at  the  prevailing  cost  of  high  living  chez 
Suleimani  the  Blind  this  would  last  for  some  time. 
So  he  smoked  and  sipped  his  tea  and  chattered 
with  other  gunbearers,  and  cast  glances  of  scorn 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  215 

at  the  passersby  respectfully  adoring  of  his  high 
estate.  He  felt,  after  the  terrible  days  of  the 
French  Congo,  that  he  could  stand  quite  a  little  of 
this. 

But  now  came  to  him  a  Kavirondo  boy,  very 
black,  his  bullet  head  shaved  to  a  kinky  skull-cap. 
Having  gone  stark  naked  all  his  life  he  here 
looked  on  clothes  as  ornamental  merely,  so  wore 
his  own  mainly  around  his  neck.  He  gazed 
fixedly  on  Simba  until  that  exalted  personage 
deigned  to  break  his  discourse. 

"What  is  it,  shenzi?"*  inquired  Simba  at 
length  in  Swahili. 

"A  white  man  at  the  hotel  has  sent  out  for 
you." 

"I  am  taking  my  rest.  Why  should  I  go 
because  some  white  man  sends?"  demanded 
Simba,  for  the  benefit  of  the  others  on  the  veranda. 
"What  white  man?" 

"  I  do  not  know  him.  He  is  strange  here.  He  is 
a  man  who  walks  so;  and  he  wears  a  black  beard! " 

"But  you  are  indeed  a  shenzi  !"  cried  Simba, 
scandalized,  "and  have  not  been  long  from  the 

*Shenzi— wildman,  savage. 


216  SIMBA 

jungle.  The  very  dogs  know  Bwana  Kingozi, 
the  Fighter  of  the  Elephant!  It  is  true,"  he  told 
the  other  gunbearers,  "that  he  and  I  are  as  the 
fingers  on  one  hand." 

"A-a-a-a!"  they  murmured  politely. 

Simba  rose,  a  commanding  figure  in  his  snow- 
white  kanzua  and  lace-like  skull-cap,  his  ugly 
honest  face,  with  its  fierce  eyes,  informed  with 
savage  dignity.  The  Kavirondo,  his  message  de 
livered,  had  promptly  disappeared. 

Ill 

THE  one-storied  stone  hotel  was  set  back  from 
the  shaded  street.  It,  too,  possessed  a  veranda, 
but  near  the  level  of  the  ground.  Europeans  in 
cool-looking  tropic  white  sat  in  teak-wood  lazy 
chairs.  Simba  made  his  way  through  the  mob  of 
noisy,  chattering  rickshaw  boys.  A  monkey 
sprang  from  before  his  step;  he  avoided  carefully 
the  snuffing  nose  of  a  dog;  he  cast  a  glance  at  a 
chained  baboon  and  a  strolling  month-old  lion 
cub.  Catching  sight  of  his  master's  black  beard 
he  came  to  a  halt  and  waited.  After  a  few  mo 
ments  Kingozi  called  him  and  he  approached. 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  217 

Kingozi  sat  between  a  man  and  a  woman. 
They  were  both  young  and  very  good-looking, 
though  Simba  would  not  have  acknowledged  the 
second  point.  To  him  they  looked  anaemic, 
bloodless,  like  grubs  dug  out  of  a  log.  The 
woman's  opinion  of  Simba's  appearance  may  be 
gathered  from  her  first  remark. 

"This  is  the  man,"  Kingozi  said. 

The  woman's  slender,  elegantly  gowned  form 
shivered  slightly. 

"But  he  is  so  ugly!"  she  protested,  in  a  clear, 
penetrating,  domineering  voice;  "he  looks  posi 
tively  evil.  Are  you  certain  of  him?  I  should 
say  he  is  a  robber  and  a  thief  and  a  murderer  and 
all  that." 

"I  say!"  protested  the  young  man  in  his  turn. 
"Perhaps  the  blighter  understands  English!" 

"What  of  it?    Does  he?"  she  asked  Kingozi. 

"No,"  replied  the  latter  drily.  "I  assure  you, 
Lady  Clarice,  he  is  none  of  the  things  you  name; 
but  the  most  reliable  man  I  could  get  you  in  all 
Africa." 

"Jolly  strong  praise,  that,"  said  the  man. 
"But  you  should  know,  Culbertson.  But  I'm 


2i8  SIMBA 

frightfully  dashed  that  you  can't  go  with  us  your 
self.  Glenmore  led  me  to  believe,  you  know,  that 
you  did  that  sort  of  thing  occasionally,  don't  you 

see?    And "  he  hesitated.    "If  a  matter  of 

a  hundred  pound  or  so  a  month  might  stand  in  the 
way — 

"It  does  not,"  broke  in  Kingozi  curtly.  "I 
assure  you,  Lord  Kilgour,  if  it  were  possible  I 
would  accompany  you.  But  Simba,  here, 
knows  the  country  better  than  I  do  myself.  He 
is  thoroughly  competent  to  handle  your  men,  and 
a  trained  gunbearer,  in  the  bargain.  I  will, 
however,  assist  you  with  your  outfit  and  supplies, 
and  will  direct  you  to  good  country."  He  turned 
to  Simba  and  began  to  talk  Swahili.  "Listen 
carefully.  This  bwana  and  this  memsahib  are 
very  great  rulers  in  their  country.  They  have 
come  to  kill  meat.  The  one  who  is  my  Bwana 
M'Kubwa  has  told  me  that  they  must  have  good 
hunting.  Therefore  it  is  necessary  that  you  go. 
Get  Cazi  Moto  for  headman.  That  this  is  hard 
I  know  well.  Money  is  hot  and  the  pouch  is  thin. 
This  is  not  a  command  I  lay  on  you.  But  I  wish 
it." 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  219 

From  before  Simba's  eyes  faded  the  dreams  of 
luxuries  that  had  grown  during  long  months. 
Nevertheless  he  replied  steadily: 

"I  will  go,  bwana" 

"Vema"  Kingozi  uttered  the  simple  word  of 
highest  possible  praise.  "  Come  to-morrow  in  the 
third  hour." 

"How  many  men,  bwana  ?" 

"Who  knows?  But  speak  in  the  villages  that 
many  may  come,  for  I  think  many  may  be  re 
quired." 

"I  say,"  broke  in  Lord  Kilgour,  "and  be  sure  to 
tell  the  blighter  to  take  us  where  there  are  plenty 
of  lions!  I'm  frightfully  keen  on  lions,  you 
know." 

"Lions  are  chancy  beasts  for  an  unaccustomed 
man  to  hunt  without  backing,"  Kingozi  suggested 
doubtfully. 

"Rex  is  a  topping  shot  and  cool  as  ice,"  the 
woman  interjected  with  a  faint  trace  of  pride. 

"You'll  yourself  find  the  work  rather  rough," 
Kingozi  hinted  to  her. 

"I  fancy  not,"  she  replied  idly. 

Kingozi  arose  abruptly. 


220  SI  MB  A 

"Well,  get  your  luggage  together,  please. 
Have  it  all  ready  for  my  inspection  to-morrow 
morning  at  nine.  We  will  then  go  into  de 
tails." 

He  bowed  first  to  one  and  then  to  the  other. 

"Bassi!"  he  dismissed  Simba,  and  turned  in  to 
the  bar. 

There  he  encountered  the  white  man  who  had 
met  him  in  procession  that  morning. 

"I  want  another.    Join  me?" 

They  sipped  at  their  drinks. 

"Mac,"  said  Kingozi,  "I  am  a  brute  and  a  dog. 
Old  Glenmore  recommended  me  some  people  on 
their  wedding  trip  who  are  out  here  shooting, 
and  I'm  dodging  the  job.  They  want  to  start 
right  out;  and  I  feel  I  need  a  breathing  spell  after 
this  last  trip.  So  I'm  turning  'em  over  to  Simba, 
and  am  staying  home  in  idle  luxury." 

McCloud's  eyes  twinkled. 

"I've  seen  them,"  he  remarked  drily.  "Nat 
urally  you  need  a  rest." 

As  they  raised  their  glasses,  their  eyes  met. 
An  unwitting  and  shamefaced  grin  parted  Kin- 
gozi's  lips. 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  221 

IV 

SIMBA  did  not  return  to  the  bazaar.  He  walked 
at  once  to  the  villages  of  round  bee-hive  huts  in 
the  environs  of  white  man's  town.  There  various 
polite  and  polished  youths,  after  listening  calmly 
to  what  he  had  to  say,  suddenly  broke  into  ex 
traordinary  activity,  running  from  hut  to  hut, 
shouting  cazi!  cazi  !  cazi  !  at  the  top  of  their  lungs. 
The  immediate  result  was  an  outpouring  of  would- 
be  bearers,  men  who  had  shone  their  brief  wage- 
possessing  hour  at  the  bazaars,  and  now,  stony- 
broke,  were  awaiting  in  eclipse  for  a  new  job. 
Simba  lined  them  up  and  looked  them  over.  He 
examined  their  muscles,  their  joints,  their  teeth, 
and  especially  their  feet.  In  this  manner  he 
weeded  out  the  unfit  and  instructed  the  others  to 
report  at  the  go-down  the  following  morning. 

In  the  meantime  other  agencies,  through  Kin- 
gozi,  had  been  at  work.  Horses  were  brought  in 
and  inspected;  tents  laid  out  and  repaired;  uten 
sils  of  all  sorts  collected.  By  the  time  Lord  Kil- 
gour,  the  following  morning,  sauntered  to  the 
meeting  place,  a  safari  was  well  under  way. 


222  SIMBA 

And  the  following  day  it  took  the  field.  It  was 
such  a  safari  as  Simba  approved.  There  were 
seven  tin  officers'  boxes  of  private  effects;  and  two 
loads  of  ammunition;  and  twenty  chop  boxes 
containing  the  rare  and  mysterious  viands  pecu 
liar  to  the  white  man;  and  a  four-load  green  tent; 
tables,  chairs,  folding  baths.  The  white  man  and 
the  white  woman  each  rode  a  bona-fide  horse, 
not  a  mule;  and  each  horse  had  its  personal 
attendant.  Besides  Simba  were  also  two  lesser 
gunbearers  and  skinners.  Then  there  was  the 
Goanese  cook  and  his  helper;  and  in  the  rear 
wizened,  wise  little  Cazi  Moto  with  his  rhinoceros- 
hide  whip.  And  other  carriers,  many  many  car 
riers,  bearing  sacks  of  potio — ground  corn-meal — 
with  which  to  feed  all  the  rest.  Each  man  wore  a 
brand-new  jersey  and  carried  turban-wise  about 
his  head  a  bright  new  blanket.  They  strung  out 
across  the  landscape,  near  two  hundred  of  them, 
in  a  long,  imposing,  colourful,  and  noisy  pro 
cession.  From  the  top  of  a  rise  Simba  looked 
back  upon  them  with  approval  swelling  his  bar 
baric  heart.  This  was  a  safari  worthy  of  a  great 
bwana.  And  the  rifles  he  and  his  companions 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  223 

carried  were  also  worthy;  and  the  general  gorgeous 
row  and  cumbersomeness  of  it  all  appealed  to  him 
as  entirely  fitting  and  significant.  This  unrec 
onciled  with  the  fact  that  Kingozi  was  with  him 
an  article  of  religious  faith,  and  that  Kingozi 
generally  travelled  with  about  thirty  ragged  men. 

No  mention  has  been  made  of  two  youths  who 
walked  free  and  unencumbered,  save  by  a  lantern 
apiece,  immediately  behind  the  gunbearers. 
They  were  high-headed,  sleek,  suave  young  men, 
dressed  in  neat  khaki  tunics  and  shirts,  and  sport 
ing  red  tarbouches  with  silken  tassels.  Ordi 
narily  Simba  liked  the  very  efficient  citizens 
known  as  tent  boys,  but  these  were  different.  It 
had,  of  course,  been  necessary  to  find  inter 
mediaries  who  could  talk  English,  and  the  mis 
sion  school  proved  the  only  source.  Simba  noted 
mission  boys  in  general;  and  he  particularly  de 
spised  these  two.  They  called  themselves  Josef 
and  Tom. 

As  yet  Simba  had  not  seriously  considered  the 
white  people  who  were  the  necessary  cause  of  all 
this  prideful  display.  They  rode  ahead  and  were 
satisfactorily  gorgeous  in  sports  clothes;  and  that 


224  SIMBA 

was  sufficient.    He  headed  across  the  undulating 
veldt  toward  the  Maji  Quenda. 


IT  WAS  four  days'  march  through  native  cul 
tivation  before  the  edge  of  the  game  country  was 
reached.  In  that  time  Simba  came  in  for  a  num 
ber  of  adjustments  and  learned  that  pomp  and 
vanity  must  often  pay  its  costs. 

For  example,  it  was  impossible  to  get  started 
near  sunrise,  as  is  desirable.  The  porters'  camps 
were  struck  and  packed,  the  loads  made  up,  the 
men  squatting  on  their  heels.  But  within  the  tent 
of  the  memsahib  long  and  mysterious  rites  went 
on.  The  sun  came  up,  waxed  in  strength.  And 
only  at  the  long  last  did  she  emerge.  Privately 
urged,  Josef  said  that  he  duly  awakened  hei 
before  sunrise,  as  is  the  custom;  that  her  hot  water 
was  promptly  delivered;  and  that  he,  Josef,  model 
of  virtues,  was  not  to  blame.  But  it  threw  the 
march  into  the  heat  of  the  day;  it  finished  the 
journey  so  late  that  necessary  tasks  were  awk 
wardly  timed.  Several  men,  with  souls  beneath 
pomp  and  pride,  dumped  their  loads  and  deserted, 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  225 

Simba  and  Cazi  Moto,  after  consultation,  took 
aside  the  deserters'  friends  and  gave  them  ten 
apiece  with  the  kiboko.  The  justice  of  this  was 
obscure,  but  the  results  admirable. 

Between  them  Simba  and  Cazi  Moto  managed 
to  keep  things  going;  though  such  complication 
as  the  necessity  of  stopping  at  noon  for  a  lunch 
brought  wrinkles  to  their  already  furrowed  brows. 
The  men  grumbled  but  stuck,  for  they  had  been 
promised  a  permanent  camp  on  the  Maji  Quenda 
and  much  meat. 

So  it  happened  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  day. 
The  double  green  tent  was  pitched  on  a  height 
overlooking  the  long,  sluggish,  picturesque  reaches 
of  the  stream.  In  a  semicircle  at  a  discreet  dis 
tance  stood  the  tiny  porters'  tents  each  with  a 
tittle  flickering  fire  burning  in  front  of  it.  Men 
were  dumping  down  armfuls  of  wood  for  the  night 
guard-fire.  Two  motionless  figures,  their  heads 
bedecked  with  ostrich  plumes,  leaned  on  muskets. 
In  the  gathering  twilight  the  veldt  stretched  wide 
and  mysterious,  and  from  it  came  multitudinous 
sounds  of  beasts. 

The  safari  had  as  usual  arrived  late;  but  even 


226  SIMBA 

so,  after  crossing  the  river,  Lord  Kilgour  and  his 
lady  had  seen  small  herds  of  game  grazing  in  the 
distance  down  through  the  trees.  Lord  Kilgour 
had  become  immensely  excited.  He  was  keen  to 
start  right  out;  but  Simba  shook  his  head,  and 
even  Lady  Clarice  saw  the  point. 

"  Don't  be  silly ! "  she  said,  "  it's  going  on  to  dusk, 
and  very  presently  it  will  be  quite  dark.  You'll 
get  yourself  eaten  or  something  absurd." 

As  soon  as  the  evening  meal  was  over  Kilgour 
called  Simba  and  Josef  to  interpret. 

"Tell  him,"  said  Kilgour  to  Josef,  "that  we 
shall  go  hunting  in  the  morning." 

"He  says,"  replied  Josef,  presently,  "that  to 
hunt  in  the  morning  it  must  be  that  you  arise 
very  early."  Josef  was  justly  proud  of  his 
English. 

"How  early?" 

"He  says  when  the  light  comes." 

"You  will  not  be  going  with  us  then,  my  dear," 
suggested  Kilgour  deprecatingly. 

"I  certainly  cannot  be  expected  to  get  up  any 
earlier  than  I  do  now,"  replied  Lady  Clarice. 
"I  begin  to  dress  by  candlelight  as  it  is." 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  227 

"But  if,  my  dear,  for  the  especial  occasion, 
you  could  as  little  abridge  your  toilet " 

"If  you  expect  me  to  ruin  my  complexion  on 
account  of  this  rather  absurd  expedition,"  said 
Lady  Clarice.  "Why  in  the  world  cannot  you 
do  your  shooting  in  the  afternoon?" 

"I'm  frightfully  keen  to  get  out." 

"So  am  I,"  said  Lady  Clarice,  smothering  a 
yawn. 

It  was  arranged  that  the  first  hunt  was  to  take 
place  the  following  afternoon. 

"And  I  wish  you'd  leave  that  ugly  brute,"  re 
quested  Lady  Clarice,  referring  to  Simba.  "He 
gives  me  the  shivers." 

But  Kilgour  became  suddenly  obstinate. 

"Oh,  I  say!"  he  cried,  "that's  a  bit  thick,  you 
know.  This  chap  is  my  stand-by  !  Culbertson 
especially  recommends  him.  He  knows  the  game, 
and  I  don't.  You  must  remember  that,  my  dear." 

"Why  not  the  other  two  gunbearers?" 

"I  don't  know  a  blessed  thing  about  them. 
You  must  remember,  my  dear,  that  this  is  a 
dangerous  country,  highly  dangerous.  Things  pop 
out  at  you  right  and  left.  It's  jumpy  business!" 


228  SIMBA 

She  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"Very  well,"  she  agreed  at  last. 

They  rode  out  across  the  veldt  the  following 
afternoon,  the  two  whites  followed  by  the  gun- 
bearers;  and  then,  at  a  distance,  a  dozen  porters 
to  bring  in  the  meat.  Game  was  everywhere  in 
sight  but  none  too  easy  of  approach.  After  a 
tune  Kilgour  dismounted,  and,  followed  by  Simba, 
attempted  a  stalk.  The  white  woman  and  the 
syces  and  the  other  gunbearers  watched  from  an 
eminence;  and  the  porters  squatted  in  a  compact 
little  group  a  hundred  yards  back.  The  object 
of  the  approach  was  a  half-dozen  hartebeeste. 
Kilgour  had  shot  stags  in  Scotland  and  made  a 
rather  good  stalk.  At  about  forty  rods'  range  he 
missed  clean. 

The  shot  was  not  difficult.  A  dull  red  over 
spread  his  countenance,  and  he  glanced  covertly 
at  Simba.  Simba's  face  was  inscrutable.  The 
miss  meant  nothing  to  him.  He  had  seen  many 
bwanas  do  exactly  that  same  thing  at  first  in  this 
country.  In  fact,  he  had  never  seen  any  newcomer 
do  anything  different.  Sometimes  it  took  the 
shots  several  days  to  become  accustomed 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  229 

to  the  strange  light.  Simba  reloaded  and  handed 
the  rifle  back. 

The  hartebeeste  had  run  a  half  mile  and  had 
joined  a  herd  of  zebra  and  wildebeeste.  Kilgour 
began  a  second  stalk.  He  did  very  well,  but  the 
animals  were  more  alert  and  the  cover  none 
too  good.  It  is  more  difficult  to  stalk  fifty  animals 
than  a  dozen.  At  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards, 
warned  of  imminent  flight,  growing  uneasiness, 
Kilgour  was  forced  to  shoot,  again  unsuccessfully. 

There  is  no  use  going  into  painful  details.  The 
little  procession  returned  at  dusk  unburdened. 

Kilgour  was  savagely  irritated.  His  many 
misses,  barring  the  first,  were  readily  excusable 
on  account  of  the  ranges.  He  had  been  unable 
to  make  nearer  approaches.  And  that,  he  had 
persuaded  himself,  was  Simba's  fault. 

"If  that  blighter  would  quit  dogging  my  heels," 
he  cried  to  Lady  Clarice.  "I  tried  to  send  him 
back,  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  me!  How 
can  two  men  expect  to  get  near " 

"I  told  you  to  leave  him  in  camp,"  said  Lady 
Clarice  in  a  faintly  amused  voice. 

Simba  at  the  gunbearers'  fire  cleaned  the  rifle 


23o  SIMBA 

philosophically.    No  meat   was   a  great  disap 
pointment  to  everybody;  but  to-morrow—*- — 

VI 

KILGOUR  improved  his  shooting.  Shortly  he 
had  no  difficulty  whatever  in  getting  enough  meat 
to  keep  everybody  happy.  Life  fell  into  a  routine. 
Each  day  they  rode  abroad  in  a  wide  circle. 
Sometimes  they  explored  the  wide,  undulating 
plains,  resembling  a  great  sea,  with  wild  beasts 
resting  like  gulls  in  the  hollows  of  the  waves. 
Again  they  crept  afoot  down  the  game  trails 
through  the  forests,  where  the  rope  vines  swung, 
the  parrots  and  bright-coloured  birds  flashed,  the 
monkeys  and  the  colobus  chattered.  Or  perhaps, 
again  afoot,  they  made  their  way  down  the  nar 
row  river- jungle  where  they  heard  the  queer  cry 
of  the  bushbuck  or  the  hollow  bellowing  of  the 
hippopotami.  Then  toward  sundown  they  swung 
back  to  their  camp,  bathed  and  changed,  and  had 
tea.  When  one  section  of  the  country  had  beeu 
thus  well-ridden,  they  moved  camp  five  or  ten 
miles. 

The  white  man  hunted  diligently  and  keenly, 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  231 

his  interest  and  confidence  increasing  day  by  day. 
The  woman  always  rode  out  on  every  hunt. 
She  rarely  dismounted,  save  where  the  forest  or 
jungle  forced  on  her  such  a  course;  but  sat  her 
horse,  erect,  faintly  smiling,  as  though  with  hidden 
amusement,  offering  lightly  congratulations  on 
success  whose  faintly  ironic  quality  was  lost  on 
the  perceptions  of  her  spouse.  She  still  manifested 
a  scornful,  careless  hostility  toward  Simba. 

"He  is  a  sullen  brute,"  she  had  decided. 

Simba  was  not  sullen,  however.  He  was  merely 
doing  his  duty  as  thoroughly  and  conscientiously 
as  he  knew  how.  His  interest  in  this  bwana  was 
professional  not  personal. 

Game  there  was  aplenty.  Kilgour  acquired 
some  quite  respectable  heads.  But  by  one  of 
those  strange  freaks  of  hunters'  luck  he  failed  to 
encounter  either  elephant,  lion,  rhinoceros,  or 
buffalo — the  Big  Four  of  dangerous  wild  game. 
He  saw  tracks  of  them  all;  and  every  night  the 
lions  roared  grandly.  As  is  always  the  case  his 
eagerness  grew  with  the  postponement  of  his 
desires  until  he  was  fairly  aquiver  to  try  his 
mettle. 


232  SIMBA 

And,  again  as  is  usual,  the  first  encounter  was 
totally  unexpected.  From  apparently  a  per 
fectly  flat  plain,  without  cover  enough  to  conceal 
a  rabbit,  there  materialized  the  bulk  of  a  rhi 
noceros,  not  thirty  yards  distant.  He  had  been 
sleeping  in  an  unexpected  hollow  filled  with  deeper 
grass.  Lowering  his  horn  he  promptly  charged. 

Kilgour  and  Simba  were  afoot  and  some  twenty 
yards  ahead  of  the  others.  A  rhinoceros  charging 
at  close  range  is  a  terrifying  spectacle  to  one  who 
has  never  seen  it  before.  The  beast  is  larger 
than  one  has  expected  and  very  much  quicker. 
It  utters  a  series  of  loud  snorts  like  steam  escap 
ing  from  a  locomotive  exhaust;  its  great  weight 
seems  to  jar  the  earth;  and  its  momentum  ap 
pears  irresistible.  All  the  porters  unanimously 
took  to  some  very  spiky  thorn  trees.  Lady 
Clarice  tightened  the  reins  of  her  terrorized  horse, 
and  sat  more  erect  than  ever.  Simba,  shoving 
ahead  the  safety  catch,  held  the  heavy  double 
rifle  next  Kilgour's  right  elbow.  Kilgour,  para 
lyzed  by  the  suddenness  and  unexpectedness 
of  the  onslaught,  stood,  his  mouth  open,  and  did 
nothing. 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  233 

" '  Piga,  bwana  /"  urged  Simba,  then,  as  Kilgour 
still  stared  helpless,  he  darted  ten  feet  to  one 
side  and  waved  his  arms. 

The  dim-sighted  rhinoceros,  abandoning  the 
still  figure,  swerved  toward  the  one  in  motion. 
Simba  waited  bolt  upright  until  the  huge  beast 
was  within  a  few  feet,  then  twisted  sidewise  and 
dropped  into  the  long  grass.  It  was  a  very  near 
thing.  The  rhinoceros  blundered  on  though, 
and  then,  as  is  often  the  case,  kept  on  going, 
straight  ahead,  until  he  had  disappeared  over  the 
near  rise  of  land. 

The  porters,  with  groans,  began  gingerly  to 
come  down  the  spike  trees  they  had  so  blithely 
ascended.  Lady  Clarice  rode  forward.  Kilgour 
seemed  to  come  to  with  a  start. 

"By  Jove!"  he  muttered,  and  again,'  "by 
Jove!"  He  drew  a  deep  breath  and  looked  about 
him  as  though  bewildered.  His  hands  were 
trembling  slightly,  but  the  colour  came  back  to 
his  face  in  a  surge. 

"You're  not  a  pretty  sight,"  said  the  woman  in 
her  high,  clear  voice,  "why  didn't  you  shoot  the 
beast?" 


234  SIMBA 

"It  was  so  deuced  sudden,"  said  Kilgour 
deprecatingly,  "who'd  have  thought  one  of  the 
bally  beasts  would  be  out  there!  Why,  it's  as 
flat  as  your  hand!  I  was  startled  out  of  my 
senses.  I  never  thought  of  my  gun  at  all,  I  give 
you  my  word!" 

She  examined  him  for  a  moment  and  then 
relented. 

"I  daresay  it  was  rather  a  facer,  the  first  off," 
she  said  carelessly,  "I  daresay  you'll  pot  the 
next  one  right  enough." 

"You're  right,"  Lord  Kilgour  assured  her  fer 
vently.  "Won't  catch  me  napping  again !  What?  " 

"Where's  the  other  fool?"  she  asked  abruptly. 
"No  excuse  for  him.  Why  didn't  you  shoot?" 

She  asked  the  question  of  Simba  in  pantomime 
not  to  be  misunderstood. 

"Hapana  distauri  yangu"*  replied  Simba. 

She  did  not  understand  the  words,  but  she 
stared  at  the  man  with  a  faint  but  real  respect. 
His  ugly  face  was  transformed  by  an  inner  fire  of 
dignity.  For  in  the  brief  phrase  he  had  voiced  the 
fierce  pride  of  caste  that  made  him  what  he  was. 

*It  is  not  my  custom. 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  235 

Immediately  on  the  return  to  camp  she  sum 
moned  Josef  to  interpret. 

"He  says  that  it  is  not  his  custom  to  shoot 
the  gun." 

"Cannot  he  shoot?" 

Simba's  nostrils  widened  and  his  eyes  flashed. 

"He  says  he  was  taught  the  shooting  by  Bwana 
Kingozi,  the  one  who  fights  the  elephants." 

"Well?"  demanded  Lady  Clarice  sharply. 

But  Josef  took  upon  himself  the  burden  of 
explanation. 

"Memsahib"  said  he,  "it  is  forbidden  ever 
that  the  gunbearer  should  shoot  the  gun  that  he 
carries  unless  it  is  that  the  bwana  lies  upon  the 
ground  and  is  chewed  upon  by  the  animal.  This 
is  distauri  (custom).  And  if  the  gunbearer  ever 
shoots  the  gun,  then  all  gunbearers  call  him 
m'buzi.  I  do  not  know  that  word  in  English:  it 
is  a  bad  word." 

"Suppose,"  suggested  the  white  woman,  "that 
the  rhinoceros  had  caught  this  man,  would  he 
not  shoot?" 

A  rapid  interchange  in  Swahili. 

"Simba  says,"  translated  Josef,  "that  it  is  the 


236  SIMBA 

business  of  the  gunbearer  to  load  the  gun;  it  is 
the  business  of  the  bwana  to  shoot  the  gun  and 
to  kiU  the  beast." 

"That  will  do,"  she  said  abruptly. 

VII 

SIMBA  made  nothing  of  it  one  way  or  another. 
His  respect  for  white  men  as  a  race,  and  his 
experience  with  new  hunters  as  a  class,  minimized 
the  incident  for  him.  The  unknown  is  always 
startling.  Soon  a  man  learned  what  to  ex 
pect. 

But  as  time  went  on  it  became  evident  that 
Lord  Kilgour  belonged  to  that  unfortunate  class  of 
hunters  on  whom  the  mere  presence  of  dangerous 
game  reacts  badly.  His  minor  coordinations 
were  beyond  his  control.  It  was  not  excitement; 
it  was  certainly  not  fear;  it  was  just  nerves!  No 
longer  did  sudden  and  gigantic  eruptions  of 
hostile  creatures  startle  him  to  impotency;  and 
never  did  he  fail  to  walk  courageously  up  to  any 
animal  that  awaited  his  more  deliberate  attack. 
But  always  in  such  circumstances  he  was  super 
normal.  His  weapon  was  unsteady,  his  frame 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  237 

atremble,  and  his  reactions  in  an  emergency 
utterly  instinctive.  That  is  all  very  well  if  a 
man's  instincts  have  been  trained  by  experience 
to  react  in  the  most  efficient  directions. 

For  a  long  time  no  real  emergency  developed. 
One  day  they  followed  fresh  buffalo  spoor  until 
they  came  up  with  a  little  band  resting  through 
the  heat.  Then  they  crawled  painfully  down  the 
the  bed  of  a  donga,  the  sun  beating  them  un 
mercifully  on  the  back,  and  lay  for  three  hours 
awaiting  the  evening  movement  of  the  beasts.  A 
half  hour  before  sundown  the  great  black  bulks 
stirred,  emerged  from  the  thicket,  and  filed 
leisurely  by,  broadside  on,  about  sixty  yards  away. 
Kilgour,  lying  belly  down  against  the  slope  of  an 
anthill,  took  an  elbow  rest — and  missed  clean 
with  both  barrels  of  the  heavy  rifle!  It  was 
incredible!  A  buffalo  bull  presents  a  shoulder 
mark  nearly  five  feet  square! 

And  a  rhinoceros,  head  on,  at  not  above  forty 
yards;  and  a  leopard  winding  sinuously  through 
the  river- jungle!  The  woman  watched  these 
performances  without  comment.  Simba,  his  ex 
pression  unchanged,  fulfilled  all  his  duties. 


238  SIMBA 

Kilgour  was  no  analyst.  He  knew  merely  that 
he  was  not  afraid.  His  emotion  of  shame  was 
expressed  in  disgust  at  the  poor  quality  of  his 
shooting. 

"I  can't  understand  it!  Rotten  luck!"  he 
complained.  "I  seem  to  get  any  amount  of  this 
common  trash,  but  when  anything  worth  while 
comes  on,  I  make  the  most  awful  ass  of  myself! 
Too  keen,  I  suppose.  Can't  seem  to  steady  down 
when  I  really  want  a  thing  a  lot." 

His  wife  said  nothing. 

As  yet  they  had  not  caught  even  a  distant 
glimpse  of  lion.  Then  one  day,  while  riding 
leisurely  along  the  high  slopes  of  a  thin  bush- veldt, 
they  saw  in  the  middle  distance  four  strange 
animals  rise  from  the  grass  and  gallop  slowly  and 
rather  lumberingly  away.  They  were  lions,  but 
the  idea  of  lions  occurred  to  neither  of  the  white 
people.  These  stood  higher  out  of  the  grass, 
looking  as  tall,  indeed,  as  zebras — carried  them 
selves  differently,  ran  queerly — in  short,  were  not 
in  the  least  leonine.  Kilgour  sat  staring  after 
them,  his  mind  paralyzed  by  a  chaos  of  surprise. 
He  was  aroused  by  Simba,  dragging  from  his 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  239 

grasp  the  light  rifle,  and  thrusting  at  him  the 
heavier  weapon. 

"Simba,  bwana,  Simba !"  hissed  the  gunbearer. 

Kilgour  knew  this  Swahili  word.  A  sudden  fit 
of  excitement  seized  him.  He  clapped  spurs  to 
his  mount  and  dashed  in  pursuit. 

Now  Kilgour  had  been  carefully  coached  in  the 
proper  method  to  run  lions.  He  must  not  follow 
directly  behind,  but  on  a  parallel  course  off  one 
flank;  for  when  the  beast  turned  suddenly  he 
must  have  room  to  step  and  swerve.  He  must 
keep  at  least  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  away,  for 
the  same  reason.  When  the  lion  whirled  and 
charged,  as  he  would  certainly  do,  the  rider  must 
turn  and  run  away  at  the  best  speed  of  his  mount. 
Only  when  the  lion,  angered  at  this  futile  game, 
sat  down  in  the  grass  to  await  the  next  move, 
must  the  rider  dismount;  and  then  never  nearer 
than  two  hundred  yards. 

The  flame  of  Kilgour's  wild  excitement  swept 
his  brain  clear  of  this  knowledge.  He  saw  the 
lion  running  away,  and  he  chased  it  as  hard  and 
as  fast  as  he  could. 

The  country  was  rough.     Thrice  his  mount 


240  S I M  B  A 

nearly  fell.  He  was  hardly  aware  of  it,  nor  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  jerked  it  roughly  to  its  feet. 
His  whole  attention  was  fixed  on  the  tawny  bodies 
of  the  lions  rising  and  falling  steadily  as  they  loped 
through  the  scattered  bushes.  They  were  not  going 
very  fast,  and  he  quickly  shortened  the  distance. 

A  lion  is  no  great  hand  at  running  away.  He 
soon  becomes  both  short  of  breath  and  angry. 
Then,  without  warning,  he  whirls  and  charges  his 
pursuer. 

One  of  these  lions  did  precisely  that.  And 
Kilgour,  instead  of  fleeing  as  fast  as  his  horse 
could  carry  him,  pulled  up  his  mount  and  leaped 
to  the  ground. 

A  lion  in  full  charge  covers  ground  at  about  the 
rate  of  a  hundred  yards  in  seven  seconds.  He  does 
not  bound  along,  but  runs  like  a  very  eager  dog  in 
pursuit  of  a  thrown  stick.  Also  he  roars  loudly. 
Kilgour  consumed  time  in  bringing  his  horse  to 
a  stop,  in  dismounting,  and  in  coming  to  the 
position  of  ready.  He  emerged  from  the  hasty 
confusion  of  these  activities  to  find  the  lion  com 
ing  strong  and  very  close — so  much  closer  than 
he  had  expected,  or,  indeed,  than  seemed  possible, 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  241 

that  the  surprise  and  flurry  of  it  paralyzed  him  for 
three  seconds.  Then  he  hastily  raised  his  rifle, 
whereupon  his  horse — which  of  course  he  should 
have  abandoned — jerked  back  on  its  reins.  Kil- 
gour  received  a  tremendous  blow  on  his  chest,  and 
found  himself  lying  beneath  a  crushing  weight. 

Before  Simba,  at  the  beginning  of  all  this,  had 
passed  up  the  heavy  rifle,  he  had  reached  for  the 
lighter  in  exchange.  Kilgour,  however,  in  the  con 
centration  of  pursuit  had  held  his  grip  just  long 
enough  to  drag  the  smaller  rifle  from  Simba's 
grasp.  It  fell  to  the  ground.  Simba,  running 
alongside  the  pony  with  the  other  rifle,  was  forced 
to  leave  it.  When  Kilgour,  armed,  had  at  last 
dashed  away,  Simba  looked  back  to  see  the  second 
gunbearer  pick  up  the  abandoned  weapon.  There 
fore  he  kept  on. 

Simba  was  a  good  runner.  He  managed  for 
fifty  yards  to  keep  close  to  Lady  Clarice's  horse. 
She  motioned  with  her  riding  whip  and  slightly 
checked  her  mount.  Simba  seized  her  stirrup 
leather.  So  when  the  lion  charged  the  two  of 
them  were  within  the  hundred  yards  and  were  able 
.to  see  clearly  what  happened. 


242  SIMBA 

Lord  Kilgour,  hit  In  the  chest,  was  knocked  flat 
on  his  back.  The  heavy  cork  sun  helmet  jerked 
forward  to  his  chest.  The  lion,  digging  the  claws 
of  one  paw  into  his  shoulder,  crunched  the  empty 
helmet  once  in  his  powerful  jaws,  then  raised  his 
head  to  stare  at  Lady  Clarice  and  Simba  rapidly 
approaching. 

When  within  a  few  rods  her  horse  balked. 
Simba  launched  himself  forward.  The  rifle  lay 
out  of  reach  somewhere  beneath  the  man  and 
beast.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Simba 
leaped  astride  the  lion's  back,  wound  his  hands  in 
the  beast's  mane,  and  jerked  its  head  backward! 

The  lion  uttered  an  astonished  snarl.  In 
another  fraction  of  a  second  he  would  have  turned 
on  his  tormentor  and  killed  Simba  at  a  blow. 
Lady  Clarice,  who  had  flung  herself  from  her 
horse,  ran  up  with  the  greatest  resolution,  thrust 
the  muzzle  of  the  little  automatic,  that  was  as 
ever  her  only  weapon,  against  the  beast's  head, 
and  pulled  the  trigger.  The  lion's  muscles  re 
laxed.  He  rolled  over  dead. 
~*  Together  they  dragged  the  man  from  beneath. 
He  was  dazed  but  not  unconscious,  and  suffered 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  243 

more  from  lack  of  wind  than  anything  else.  In  a 
moment  he  sat  up,  and  the  tension  was  over. 

"  By  Jove ! "  he  gasped,  "  close  call  that !  What 
happened?"  and  then  he  was  violently  sick. 

But  Simba,  his  ugly  face  intent,  had  laid  bare 
the  shoulder  and  was  examining  the  claw  marks. 
A  lion's  claws  are  always  infected;  the  grooves 
full  of  poison  of  decayed  animal  matter.  A  mere 
scratch  has  many  times  proved  fatal.  Simba 
opened  his  pocket  knife  and  calmly  jabbed  it  a 
good  half  inch  into  one  of  the  claw  marks! 

Kilgour  let  out  a  howl  and  struggled  beneath 
Simba's  grasp. 

"You  unspeakable  blighter!"  he  roared. 
"What  do  you  mean  by  that!" 

"IFdowal"  Simba  begged  of  Lady  Clarice, 
paying  no  attention  to  Kilgour. 

She  was  looking  at  the  scene  with  the  impersonal 
air  of  attention  peculiar  to  her.  The  excitement 
had  apparently  left  her  quite  unruffled.  She 
shook  her  head  at  the  strange  word. 

"The  beast  is  murdering  me!"  cried  Kilgour, 
writhing  under  Simba's  heavy  hand. 

Receiving  no  response  to  his  appeal,   Simba 


244  SIMBA 

turned  and  methodically  punctured  one  by  one 
the  remaining  three  claw  marks.  The  blood 
spurted  from  the  new  wounds.  Kilgour  struck 
frantically  at  his  tormentor,  but  Simba  held  him 
easily  to  the  ground. 

"Make  him  stop  it!"  commanded  Kilgour. 
"He's  killing  me!  You  have  a  pistol!  Make 
him  quit!" 

"I  think  he?s  finished,"  said  the  woman  in  her 
high,  clear  voice.  "I  fancy  it's  some  savage 
custom." 

Kilgour's  face  reddened  and  his  voice  rose. 

"I  believe  you'd  stand  there  and  see  me  mur 
dered:  'pon  my  word  I  do!" 

She  smiled  and  glanced  toward  the  dead  lion. 

By  now  the  second  gunbearer  and  the  other 
men,  who  had  been  running  without  the  aid  of 
stirrup  leathers,  began  to  appear  upon  the  scene. 

"Wave,  Mavrouki,  n'dowa!"  demanded  Simba. 

The  second  gunbearer  fumbled  in  his  pouch  to 
produce  a  tiny  flask  half  filled  with  some  crys 
talline  substance.  This  he  uncorked  and  'handed 
it  to  Simba.  Simba  attempted  with  the  fingers  of 
one  hand  to  part  one  of  the  knife  wounds,  and 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  245 

with  the  other  to  pour  in  some  of  the  crystals. 
Kilgour,  raging,  struggled  weakly  to  his  feet. 

Simba  glanced  appealingly  toward  Lady  Clarice. 
She  stood  apart,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  group,  her 
automatic  in  her  hand.  Nothing  could  be  read 
into  her  attitude  but  detached  thought,  watchful 
curiosity.  He  looked  about.  None  of  the  men 
present  spoke  English.  To  manhandle  a  white 
man  is  in  Africa  lese  majeste  of  the  worst  sort. 
Simba  pondered  a  moment,  then  spoke  rapidly 
in  Swahili.  Lady  Clarice  caught  the  word  "Kin- 
gozi"  many  times  repeated.  The  men  looked 
frightened,  but  advanced  on  the  swaying  white 
man.  He  hit  out  feebly.  They  laid  their  hands 
on  him  gently  though  firmly  and  in  a  moment  he 
was  held,  immovable  but  swearing.  The  woman, 
whose  face  had  hardened,  whose  muscles  had  ten 
sed,  whose  pistol  had  half  raised,  relaxed.  A  slight 
smile  parted  her  lips  as  Kilgour 's  bitter  reproaches 
fell  on  her  ears. 

"They  aren't  going  to  harm  you,"  she  vouch 
safed.  "Better  go  through  with  it:  I  can't  fight 
the  lot." 

With  the  point  of  his  knife  Simba  rubbed  several 


246  SIMBA 

of  the  permanganate  crystals  to  the  very  bottom 
of  the  tiny  wounds,  then  bound  the  shoulder  with 
Kilgour's  handkerchief.  The  men  released  their 
hold. 

"Better  attend  to  your  beast  and  thank  your 
lucky  stars  it's  no  worse,"  Lady  Clarice  cut  in  on 
his  invective. 

Kilgour  finally  simmered  down.  His  wrath 
over  the  indignity  obliterated  for  the  time  being 
all  sense  of  danger  past  They  skinned  the  lion 
and  returned  to  camp.  Then  Josef  produced 
proper  bandages  and  the  shoulder  was  redressed. 
He  heard  enough  of  the  conversation  between  his 
master  and  mistress  to  gain  knowledge  of  the 
situation.  He  was  not  surprised  when  he  was 
ordered  to  summon  Simba,  and  to  stand  by  for 
interpretation. 

Kilgour  started  an  angry  interrogation,  but  was 
promptly  thrust  to  one  side  by  his  wife. 

"You're  much  too  excited,"  she  told  him,  then 
to  Josef:  "I  wish  to  know  why  this  man  dared 
lay  hands  on  his  master:  why  he  used  the  knife 
on  his  shoulder?  " 

"The  bwana  had  been  marked  by  the  lion's 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  247 

claws,"  replied  Simba,  "and  as  thesis  much  poison 
in  the  claws  of  the  lion  I  put  in  the  shoulder  the 
medicine  given  by  the  Bwana  Kingozi.  That  I 
have  been  taught.  Bwana  Kingozi  told  me  I 
must  bring  this  bwana  back  alive:  and  so  I  must 
do." 

"He  says  it  was  medicine,"  translated  Josef, 
"to  keep  the  bwana  from  dying  of  his  wounds." 

"Wounds!"  cried  Kilgour,  "four  little  scratches 
I  couldn't  even  feel.  They  weren't  wounds  until 
he  made  them  so!" 

"Some  superstition,  I  tell  you,"  she  re 
peated. 

"Well,  I  do  not  intend  to  be  mauled  because 
of  dirty  native  superstitions ! "  he  declared.  "  This 
fellow  has  been  above  himself  for  some  time. 
Hereafter  he  can  stay  in  camp." 

But  she  straightened  herself  in  her  canvas  chair 
with  her  first  appearance  of  real  animation. 

"You  have  your  lion,"  she  told  him,  "and  all 
the  other  beasts  you  are  so  keen  upon.  We  have 
stopped  in  this  beastly  country  long  enough. 
To-morrow  we  return  to  Nairobi."  She  stared 
at  him  utterly  ignoring  his  blank  "Oh,  I  say!" 


248  SIMBA 

"We  came  for  six  weeks,"  she  resumed  in  a  softer 
tone  after  several  moments  of  pregnant  silence, 
"and  they're  up  within  three  days." 

Kilgour's  dismay  changed  to  bland  surprise. 

"No!  Dash  it,  who  would  have  thought  it! 
How  time  flies!" 

VIII 

THIS  safari  made  a  much  more  impressive  en 
trance  to  Nairobi  than  had  Kingozi's  two  months 
before.  It  comprised  many  more  men;  they  were 
much  better  dressed;  and  they  carried  sport 
ing  trophies.  Banging,  clattering,  howling,  and 
singing  they  marched  again  to  the  tin  go-down, 
deposited  their  burdens,  and  scattered  to  the  ba 
zaars.  Not  until  the  morrow  would  they  get  their 
silver  rupees,  but  now  their  credit  was  good. 
Simba  bathed,  assumed  his  long,  spotlessly  white 
robe  and  his  lacy  skull-cap,  and  at  once  made  his 
way  to  the  piazza  of  Suleimani  the  Blind  where  he 
ordered  tea. 

The  white  people  proceeded  to  the  low,  one- 
storied  stone  hotel  on  the  veranda  of  which, 
after  a  due  interval,  they  appeared.  Kingozi, 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  249 

black  of  beard,  crisp  of  curl,  broad  of  shoulder, 
sprawled  in  a  teak- wood  lazy  chair. 

Kilgour's  spirits  were  high. 

"Topping  country!"  he  answered  the  usual 
questions.  "Ripping!  Plenty  of  game  where 
you  sent  us,  you  know.  Got  all  the  stuff  I 
wanted.  Rather  a  *  fine  eland  land,  you  know. 
Twenty-eight  inches." 

"Very  decent,"  agreed  Kingozi;  "get  your 
lion?" 

"Fine  one — tawny  mane,"  said  Kilgour  airily; 
then  with  ill-concealed  indifference:  "Mauled  a 
bit  by  him!" 

Kingozi  exclaimed,  then  heard  the  story  bit 
by  bit. 

"  Close  thing,"  he  commented.    "  Buffalo?  " 

"Bad  luck  with  them,"  confessed  Kilgour;  then 
with  an  effort:  "Should  have  killed  one  but 
missed." 

"  Too  bad.  How  did  your  men  work  out?  Any 
trouble  with  them?  Cazi  Moto  handle  them  all 
right  for  you?" 

Kilgour's  face  clouded. 

"Cazi  Moto  is  a  ripping  old  chap.*    Handled 


SIMBA 

things  right  as  rain.  Had  no  trouble  with  any 
one  but  that  head  gun  boy.  He's  plucky  and  all 
that,  but  quite  incompetent,  I  should  say/' 

"Really!  Simba?"  rejoined  Kingozi,  his  in 
terest  quickening.  "What  was  the  trouble?" 

"Doesn't  know  his  business.  I  could  never 
get  him  to  hold  back  on  a  stalk,  nor  take  cover, 
nor  obey  orders — that's  the  real  trouble,  I  fancy: 
lack  of  discipline.  Most  insubordinate  beggar. 
Needs  a  dose  of  whats-what!" 

"Tell  me,"  breathed  Kingozi  sympathetically. 

Kilgour  detailed  the  petty  grievances  that  had 
slowly  accumulated,  enumerating  the  especially 
desirable  animals  that  had  escaped  because — 
he  was  by  now  firmly  convinced — of  some  derelic 
tion  on  the  part  of  Simba. 

"So,"  he  concluded,  "I'd  reprimand  the  beggar 
if  I  were  you.  Of  course  I  knew,"  he  hastened 
to  add,  "that  you  had  every  confidence  in  the 
man  when  you  recommended  him;  and  that  is  why 
I  am  telling  you  now;  so  that  in  the  future " 

Lady  Clarice  interposed  a  sudden  request  for  a 
wrap.  Kilgour  disappeared. 

"Here  is  some  money,"  she  said  to  Kingozi, 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  251 

"which  I  wish  to  give  to  this  man  Simba  from 
me.  Please  do  not  mention  the  fact  to  my  hus 
band.'7 

"  This  is  princely/'  said  Kingozi,  eyeing  the  note. 

"It  is  well  earned,"  she  replied. 

"Then  I  gather  you  do  not  share  your  hus 
band's  opinion?  " 

"I  do  not." 

"Yet,  if  my  memory  serves  me,  you  entertained 
a  rather  violent  prejudice  against  the  man." 

"I  have  changed  my  views." 

"I  see."  Kingozi  stared  for  a  moment  into  the 
darkness  beyond  the  veranda  rail.  Then  he 
looked  at  her.  "Are  you  going  to  read  me  this 
riddle?"  he  asked. 

"Not  in  detail.  I  will  tell  you  this:  Rex  in 
some  things  is  an  incredible  fool — and  has  no 
inkling  of  the  fact.  I  believe  another  week  in 
this  country  would  have  found  him  his  death. 
That  it  did  not  find  him  before  is,  in  my  opinion, 
due  to  this  man  Simba." 

"Lord  Kilgour  is  next  in  succession  to  the 
earldom,  I  believe,"  said  Kingozi,  with  sig 
nificance. 


252  SIMBA 

"Why  should  one  trouble  to  tell  you  things?" 
she  said. 

IX 

SIMBA  stood  before  Kingozi's  chair  answering 
questions.  Kingozi  was  enjoying  himself.  He 
had  not  yet  bestowed  Lady  Clarice's  gift.  Pre 
liminaries  of  country  and  game  were  over.  They 
talked  in  Swahili. 

"This  bwana  shoots  well?' 

"He  does  not  shoot  well." 

"He  understands  shikari" 

"No,  bwana,  he  does  not  understand  shikari 
well." 

" The  bwana  is  afraid." 

But  Simba  would  not  criticise  a  white  man. 
"The  bwana  is  not  at  all  afraid,  but  he  does  not 
shoot  well." 

Kingozi  smiled  beneath  his  beard. 

"It  was  difficult  to  prevent  the  bwana's  being 
hurt  or  killed?" 

"He  is  here,  bwana,  safe." 

"Suppose  he  goes  to  Sotik,  would  you  go 
as  his  gunbearer?" 


MUTUAL    RESPECT  253 

"If  bwana  tells  me,"  replied  Simba.  His  eyes 
were  dull,  his  expression  inscrutable. 

Kingozi's  twinkle  retreated  to  the  depths  of 
his  eyes. 

"But  women  on  a  safari — they  are  bad — one 
does  not  care  to  have  them,"  he  suggested. 

Simba's  form  straightened,  and  he  lifted  his 
heretofore  indifferent  gaze  to  his  master. 

"Bwana"  said  he  earnestly,  "this  woman 
says  not  much,  does  not  much.  She  sits  on  her 
horse  and  she  looks.  But,  bwana,  she  is  a  great 
memsahib!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  EDGE  OF  THE  RIPPLE 

CIS  paced  the  bridge  and  gazed  upon  the 
lake.  He  was  armed  with  a  22-calibre 
repeating  rifle  which  occasionally  he  let 
off  whenever  one  of  the  huge  fish  floating  belly 
up  came  within  range.  At  such  times  he  turned 
out  the  whole  magazine,  and  when  he  succeeded 
in  puncturing  the  swollen  carcass,  he  evidenced  a 
disproportionate  and  savage  joy.  The  22-calibre 
rifle  and  the  fish  were  his  only  nervous  outlets; 
and  Lewis  was  near  explosion.  The  calm  of  his 
demeanour  was  supreme — and  hollow. 

He  had  good  reason.  The  sweat-bath  atmos 
phere,  for  one  thing;  the  ultra-violet  rays  of  a 
vertical  sun,  for  another;  an  ill-charted,  little- 
navigated  rock-strewn  coast  for  a  third;  hippos 
that  blew  violently  to  make  one  jump,  a  full 
deckload  of  native  passengers,  and  a  native  crew 

4 

that  after  two  years'  training  remained  sweetly 

254 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      255 

convinced  that  "do-it-now"  was  a  motto  never 
conceived  for  Africa,  even  on  a  steamboat.  By 
long  practice  Lewis  had  become  fairly  expert  at 
foreseeing  contingencies.  He  could  issue  his 
orders  far  enough  ahead — like  shooting  cross- 
flying  ducks.  But  when  the  unexpected  happened 
— some  day  would  come  a  real  emergency  demand 
ing  instant  action,  and  then Oh,  Lord! 

Lewis  punctured  his  eighth  fish,  sent  the  re 
maining  pellets  in  his  magazine  at  a  cynical 
crocodile,  and  laid  the  weapon  in  its  rack.  Behind 
him  the  steersman  leaned  on  the  wheel.  The 
steersman's  head  was  shaved  like  a  fancy  hedge; 
he  wore  a  jam  pot  in  the  distended  lobe  of  one  ear 
and  a  tobacco  tin  in  the  other;  glistening  with  oil, 
his  naked  red-brown  skin  set  off  pleasingly  his 
necklets  and  armlets  of  polished  brass;  a  bead 
band  encircled  his  waist.  He  manipulated  the 
wheel  indifferently  with  hands  or  prehensile  toes. 
He  was  quite  a  good  steersman;  but  Lewis  gazed 
on  him  with  distaste. 

"When  we  go  between  the  islands,"  he  said  in 
the  Swahili  language,  "keep  the  white  float  on  the 
left-hand  side*  Understand?" 


256  SIMBA 

"Yes,  bwana"  replied  the  steersman. 

"I  wouldn't  bet  on  it,  you  blighter/'  muttered 
Lewis,  making  his  way  aft  along  the  raised  plat 
form  that  continued  the  level  of  the  bridge.  This 
was  covered  by  a  double  awning.  On  it  stood  a 
table  and  a  number  of  lazy  chairs  of  teak  wood. 
Here  in  a  little  upper  world  above  the  welter 
of  freight  and  natives  dwelt  day  and  night 
continuously  whatever  white  men  might  be 
aboard. 

It  was  this  morning  occupied  by  a  single 
individual,  a  bearded  man  with  a  quick,  dancing 
eye.  He  had  come  aboard  at  Balaka  accompanied 
by  a  number  of  elephant  tusks,  a  small  pile  of 
battered  baggage,  and  two  native  servants.  Evi 
dently  he  knew  the  ropes,  for  he  made  his  way 
promptly  to  the  upper  quarters,  and  established 
himself  in  comfort. 

"We  may  as  well  have  tiffin,"  said  Lewis, 
dropping  heavily  into  a  chair.  "We're  out  of 
the  rocks."  He  filled  and  lighted  a  pipe.  Two 
or  three  deep  puffs  seemed  to  calm  him.  "  Nothing 
ahead  for  an  hour  but  the  passage  between  the 
islands.  And  that's  simple.  One  mud  bar,  but 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      257 

last  passage  I  dropped  a  buoy  on  that.  Rather 
proud  of  that  buoy — first  on  the  Lake!" 

The  elephant  hunter  whose  name  was  Culbert- 
son,  alias  Kingozi,  nodded  without  speaking. 
Lewis  went  on  with  the  volubility  of  a  nervous 
man. 

"  Ought  to  chart  this  Lake  properly.  No  excuse 
for  letting  us  barge  along  regardless.  Boy!"  he 
shouted,  "lete  chakula  maramoja  /" 

While  awaiting  the  arrival  of  lunch  in  accord 
with  this  last  command,  he  leaned  back  gazing  at 
the  passing  shores. 

They  were  high,  barren,  untropical  looking,  with 
rocky  points  reaching  far  out  and  indentations 
reaching  deep  in.  On  the  rocks  crocodiles  sunned 
themselves.  The  smoke  of  villages  arose  inland; 
and  the  brush  wiers  and  dugout  canoes  of  the 
native  fishermen  could  be  seen.  On  the  other 
side  was  the  open  Lake,  like  an  ocean. 

The  ship's  prow  swung.  She  headed  for  what 
was  apparently  the  solid  shore.  At  the  last 
moment  a  portion  of  the  latter  detached  itself  to 
disclose  a  passage.  Lewis__arose  and  stepped 
forward  for  a  look. 


258  SIMBA 

"My  buoy  is  there  right  enough,"  he  reported 
with  satisfaction.  "Great  relief!" 

The  shores  drew  near;  closed  around  them. 
Beehive  roofs  of  native  thatched  huts  could  be 
seen,  and  blotches  of  dull  colour  that  would  prove 
to  be  compact  herds  of  humped  cattle.  A  black 
boy  dressed  in  a  single  gown-like  garment  of 
spotless  white  climbed  the  companion  carrying  a 
tray. 

"Tiffin!"  cried  Lewis  with  satisfaction. 

The  ship  stopped  short  with  a  dull  thud.  Under 
the  impact  the  black  boy  plunged  across  the 
deck  and  plastered  his  trayful  of  food  against 
the  back  of  the  pilot  house.  Lewis  and  Kingozi 
fell  out  of  their  chairs,  which  tipped  over  on  top 
of  them.  There  ensued  a  dense  silence  almost 
immediately  broken  by  a  pandemonium  of  shrieks 
and  yells  from  the  lower  deck. 

White  with  fury  Lewis  scrambled  to  his  feet  and 
in  three  bounds  was  inside  the  pilot  house  and  at 
the  helmsman's  throat. 

"You  black  imp  of  the  devil!"  he  yelled  in 
English.  "You  just  wouldn't  do  as  you  were 
told,  would  you!  Why  didn't  you  do  as  I  told 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      259 

you!"  he  cried  in  Swahili.  His  voice  cracked  to 
a  treble  with  released  hysteria.  The  helmsman, 
his  eyes  protruding,  was  incapable  of  replying. 
Lewis  continued  to  shake  and  throttle  him. 
Finally  Kingozi  intervened. 

"Better  drop  it,"  he  advised  quietly,  putting 
his  hand  on  Lewis's  shoulder.  "Go  see  what's 
happened  to  your  ship." 

Lewis  stared  at  him  with  wild  eyes.  The  effort 
he  made  over  himself  was  visible.  After  a  few 
seconds  his  hands  relaxed. 

"You're  quite  right,  of  course,"  he  said,  his 
voice  again  under  the  vibrant  nervous  control  of 
a  man  overstrained.  "Thank  you." 

He  dove  for  the  lower  decks,  where  the  con 
fusion    had    increased.      The    elephant    hunter 
hitched  a  chair  to  the  bridge  rail  where  he  could 
see.     Inside  the  pilot  house  the  helmsman  was 
gasping  for  breath  and  feeling  his  throat. 

Lewis  went  to  work  ably  and  methodically. 
Kingozi  reflected  that  no  doubt  he  was  the  man 
for  the  job,  even  if  the  job  was  "getting"  him. 
In  dealing  with  excited  natives  excitement  only 
adds  fuel.  Outwardly  Lewis  was  perfectly  calm, 


26o  SIMBA 

but  it  was  the  calm  of  a  capped  artesian  well. 
In  his  hand  he  carried  a  kiboko — the  hippopotamus 
hide  whip  of  the  country.  Order  restored,  he 
began  the  necessary  labour.  The  Gwendolin  had 
thrust  her  nose  high  up  on  a  mud  bank.  Reversed 
engines  accomplished  little.  Lewis  began  patiently 
to  shift  cargo.  Dozens  of  native  canoes  gathered 
about. 

Becoming  bored  Kingozi  returned  to  his  re 
clining  chair.  There  he  smoked  for  a  tune,  then 
fell  asleep. 

He  was  awakened  three  hours  later  by  the  re 
turn  of  the  captain.  The  latter  fell  heavily  into 
his  armchair  and  shouted  for  lime  juice  and 
sparklets.  Kingozi  opened  his  eyes.  Observing 
this,  Lewis  broke  forth. 

"I  ask  you,  as  a  man,"  he  cried,  "can  you  top 
this?  What  do  you  suppose  happened?  These 
bounders  of  local  niggers  moved  my  buoy  about  a 
hundred  feet  to  the  southeast!  And  what  for!" 
Lewis's  voice  rose  to  a  treble.  "To  hitch  their 
bally  fishing  canoes  to!  Oh,  that's  right;  laugh, 
damn  you!"  He  gulped  down  his  drink,  lit 
his  pipe,  and  subsided  to  mutterings. 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      261 

The  Gwendoline  her  nose  somewhat  in  the  air 
pending  the  shifting  back  of  the  cargo,  was  again 
plowing  ahead.  Gradually  Lewis  calmed  down. 

"Now  I'm  delayed  four  good  hours, "  he  grum 
bled.  "There's  no  keeping  even  in  this  country! 
I've  got  to  stop  in  for  the  night  at  Irabanga. 
Beastly  hole!" 

"No  navigation  at  night?"  surmised  Kingozi. 

"Navigation  at  night!"  Lewis  laughed  bitterly, 
scorning  more  specific  reply. 

At  dusk  the  ship  swung  past  a  low  boulder 
point  and  into  a  bay  narrow  as  a  river  but  reach 
ing  inland  at  least  two  miles.  The  water  was 
deep.  At  the  lower  end  were  a  narrow  beach 
and  a  jungle  of  cocoanut  palms  from  which  smoke 
arose.  A  rickety  wharf,  extending  fifty  feet,  was 
blanketed  by  a  sturdy,  stubby,  sidewheel  steamer. 

"There's  Heine,"  remarked  Lewis  with  a  mix 
ture  of  pleasure  and  vexation.  "Dutchman — 
German — runs  that  tub  of  a  Hohenzollern  around 
the  Lake.  Trade  rival  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
Look  at  him  hogging  the  whole  jetty.  Move? 
Not  he!  Now  I'll  have  to  anchor.  More  row 
and  trouble  and  fuss !  Hell ! " 


262  SIMBA 

"Regular  German  swine,  eh?"  said  the  ivory 
hunter. 

"Heine?  No;  he's  a  good  sort.  We'll  have  a 
good  evening.  I  suppose  he  did  get  there  first; 
and  there  isn't  room  for  but  one  of  us  at  a  time. 
Well,  to  get  at  it!" 

They  got  at  it.  By  dint  of  shrieks,  yells,  blows, 
and  arguments  conducted  at  length  in  the  very 
face  of  pressing  necessity  the  Baganda  mates 
translated  Lewis's  commands — pleadings  rather — 
into  action.  The  anchor  splashed  overboard. 
Except  that  the  Gwendolin  was  fifty  yards  from 
the  place  selected,  that  the  apparatus  had  twice 
jammed,  that  the  fluke  had  gouged  five  feet  of 
paint  and  slivers  from  the  bow,  and  that  the  rush 
of  the  anchor  chain  had  carried  overboard  three 
native  bundles  and  a  chair,  all  was  well.  Lewis 
wiped  his  streaming  brow  with  a  long,  trembling 
sigh  of  relief.  He  sat  down  limply. 

"Must  get  hold  of  myself!"  he  muttered. 

Kingozi  was  eyeing  him  with  entire  under 
standing. 

"  You  need  some  chuck,"  he  said.  "  Remember 
we  got  no  tiffin." 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      263 

"Heine  will  have  us  over  shortly,"  replied 
Lewis. 

Dusk  was  falling,  and  the  hills  to  the  westward 
were  rising  in  silhouette.  In  the  jungle  fires  were 
gleaming.  Drums  began  to  throb  dully,  and 
people  to  chant.  A  light  shone  in  the  Hohenzollern 
upper  cabin  as  the  door  opened.  A  very  fat  man 
emerged  and  waddled  to  the  rail. 

"Wie  gehts,  Johnny!"  he  roared  in  a  voice  that 
broke  through  all  the  compact  stillnesses  and 
minor  cadences  of  the  tropical  evening.  "Coom 
on  ofer!  Chakula  iss  ready!" 

They  rowed  over  to  the  rickety  pier  and  clam 
bered  aboard.  The  Hohenzollern  did  not  differ 
greatly  from  the  Gwendolin  in  general  arrange 
ment,  and  they  ascended  immediately  to  the 
wide  platform-like  upper  deck.  There  the  fat 
man  greeted  them.  He  was  rotund  rather  than 
obese,  his  complexion  was  baby  pink,  his  blond 
hair  rose  en  brosse,  and  his  heavy  moustache  fell 
naturally  over  his  lips.  Lewis  and  Kingozi  were 
clasped  by  a  soft,  moist  hand. 

"It  iss  goot  to  see  you!"  cried  Heine,  his  chubby 
face  wreathed  in  smiles.  "This  iss  lonely  busi- 


264  SIMBA 

ness.  Sit  down!  sit  down!  Lete  chakula  !"  he 
roared  to  the  steward  standing  not  three  feet  away. 

Lewis  sank  gratefully  into  the  lazy  chair. 

"Lonesome,  yes;  I  believe  you — and  aggravat 
ing  !  Oh,  Lord !  These  niggers ! ' ' 

"Niggers?  yes;  but  they  are  stupid  children," 
agreed  the  German  comfortably. 

"  And  malicious,"  added  Lewis  with  bitterness. 

"Malicious?  So?"  replied  Heine  in  some  sur 
prise.  "But  that  I  had  not  thought." 

The  steward  brought  the  evening  meal  and  they 
ate,  while  the  thick  darkness  drew  close  about 
them,  and  the  tropic  stars  flared  clear,  and  the 
twinkling  fires  took  on  the  tinge  of  red. 

They  had  soup,  curry,  yams,  baked  bananas, 
and  coffee. 

"One  cannot  drink  beer!"  sighed  Heine,  "that 
I  haf  found.  And  whisky  is  bad.  But  here  are 
goot  cigars!" 

They  talked  of  various  topics,  the  common 
places  of  everyday  life — how  the  crops  of  rfjugu 
nuts  were  coming  on,  the  prospects  of  cattle 
quarantine  being  declared  in  the  Ikorongo  dis 
trict,  the  best  routes  from  one  point  to  another, 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      265 

the  spread  of  sleeping  sickness,  the  quality  of 
lubricating  oil,  the  price  of  ivory,  the  scarcity  of 
labour,  the  chances  for  success  in  cotton  planting 
— all  subjects  near  to  heart  and  on  which  they 
had  ideas. 

"Anything  outside?"  Kingozi  asked  idly,  in 
a  pause. 

Heine  shook  his  head. 

"I  haf  been  to  the  foot  of  the  Lake— -I  haf 
nothing  seen,"  he  answered. 

"I  saw  Reuter's  despatches  when  I  was  in  at 
Kimi,  last  week — no,  two  weeks  ago." 

"Anything  especially  startling?" 

"Falling  Star  won  the  Goodwood  Cup." 

"You  don't  say!"  cried  Kingozi.  "Falling 
Star — but  of  course  I  have  been  out  of  it  for  a  year. 
He  must  have  come  up  strong!" 

"You  und  your  race  horses!"  chaffed  Heine. 

"Then  I  believe  the  Americans  won  at  tennis," 
went  on  Lewis  slowly,  trying  to  recollect,  "and 
they've  had  one  of  their  usual  floods  in  China — 
and,  oh,  yes,  I  knew  there  was  something  else! 
One  of  the  Austrian  Grand  Dukes  was  assassinated 
down  in  Serbia." 


266  SIMBA 

"An  Austrian  Grand  Duke!"  repeated  Heine, 
interested  at  last.  "  Who  vass  it?  " 

Lewis  pondered.    "  I  can't  place  it,"  he  confessed. 

"Who  vass  the  assassin?" 

"Some  student  or  other — Serbian." 

Heine  wagged  his  ponderous  head. 

"  Such  foolishness !  when  they  might  be  on  deck 
at  Irabanga  with  goot  friends.  Veil,  let  them 
kill  each  other.  That  makes  nothing  to  us — 
while  the  n'jugu  nuts  still  grow." 

The  two  Englishmen  rowed  back  to  the  Gwen- 
dolin  two  hours  later.  Lewis  was  greatly  re 
freshed  in  spirit,  relaxed  in  mental  fibre.  He 
puffed  at  a  final  cheroot  leisurely  and  luxuriously, 
not  with  the  nervous  speed  of  his  earlier  evening. 
Kingozi  saw  by  the  light  of  the  companion  lamp 
that  his  face  had  fallen  into  more  peaceful  lines; 
heard  that  he  hummed  under  his  breath  the  bars 
of  a  song  popular  five  years  ago. 

"Heine's  a  good  soul,"  remarked  Lewis.  "He 
hogs  the  trade  when  he  can,  and  he  hogs  the  piers, 
and  he  swills  his  food,  and  he's  a  good  deal  of  a 
beast  in  many  ways — but  he's  a  good  soul." 

The    next    morning    the    Gwendolin    steamed 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      267 

away — after  much  miscellaneous  shrieking  in 
efficiency — leaving  the  Hohenzollern  still  gorging 
n'jugu  nuts  at  the  pier.  By  nightfall  she  had 
reached  the  important  harbour  of  Kimi.  Here 
ended  the  main  caravan  route  from  the  coast,  and 
here  in  all  the  panoply  of  one  flag  staff,  one  bronze 
cannon  (relic  from  Portuguese  days),  one  District 
Commissioner  and  dwelling,  two  European  shops, 
and  twenty  Indian  dukkas,  six  residences  of  cor 
rugated  iron  and  uncounted  native  huts  of  thatch 
dwelt  the  power  of  empire  as  represented  in  this 
particular  part  of  Central  Africa.  In  addition  to 
those  land  glories  was  a  bona-fide  pier  made  of 
bona-fide  piling,  a  huge  iron  go-down,  and  a 
miscellaneous  and  irresponsible  maritime  popula 
tion  of  dugouts  and  dhows  scattered  all  over  the 
place.  They  were  anchored  everywhere,  in  the 
channel  as  thickly  as  anywhere  else.  The  Gwen- 
dolin  barged  and  blundered  her  way  through  the 
mess,  escaping  barratry  and  homicide  by  inches, 
pursued  and  accompanied  by  native  words  that 
ran  to  a  rate  of  thousands  per  minute;  and  was 
confronted  by  a  pier  and  the  problem  of  landing 
thereat! 


268  S I M  B  A 

And  when  finally  the  gangplank  was  heaved 
aboard,  hitting  the  deck  with  one  inch  to  spare, 
and  both  bow  and  stern  lines  had  been  made  defi 
nitely  fast,  Lewis  swabbed  his  steaming  brow. 

"Praise  God!"  said  he  fervently;  and  Kingozi 
understood  why  lake  captains  so  soon  crack  up 
and  have  to  be  sent  home  out  of  the  tropics. 

II 

CAPTAIN  LEWIS  turned  out  the  next  morning 
considerably  refreshed.  This  was  because  for  the 
next  few  days  he  had  no  responsibilities.  It  was 
up  to  McCann — poor  devil — to  get  the  cargo  out 
of  the  hold  and  into  that  tin  hell  of  a  go-down. 
Lewis  lit  a  cheroot  and  sauntered  up  to  the  Dis 
trict  Commissioner's  headquarters  in  search  of 
amusement.  He  was  reasonably  sure  of  it  there. 

For  Browning  the  D.  C.  ruled  about  a  million 
people — and  was  exactly  twenty-four  years  of 
age.  Moreover,  he  ruled  them  well,  after  a  fashion 
of  his  own,  which  was  enthusiastic,  erratic,  and  in 
detail  unknown  to  Downing  Street.  For  example, 
Browning  was  keen  for  good  roads — a  "road" 
in  that  country  being,  of  course,  a  three-foot  path 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      269 

crowned  and  raised  above  the  flood  mark.  But 
native  chiefs  did  not  share  his  enthusiasm,  and 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  force  their  people  into 
construction.  Browning's  diplomacy  was  direct. 
Under  a  requisition  for  "trade  goods"  he  sent  to 
England  for  twenty-one  bicycles;  and  on  their 
arrival  spent  an  enormous  amount  of  time  and 
patience  in  teaching  the  local  potentates  to  ride. 
Thereafter  gaudy  sultanis  clad  in  brass  jewellery 
and  a  mosquito  or  so  could  be  seen  streaking  it 
across  the  landscape  followed  by  winded  courts. 
And  when  that  sultani  came  a  cropper,  he  had  out 
a  thousand  men  to  repair  the  road!  Many 
similar  stories  could  be  told  of  Browning's  admin 
istration;  but  this  one  gives  a  good  idea  of  Brown 
ing. 

His  second  in  command,  a  patriarch  of  twenty- 
two,  was  Bobby  Calthrop.  What  Browning  did 
not  think  of  Bobby  did;  and  what  they  both 
thought  of  at  the  same  time  was  immediately  car 
ried  out  with  a  verve  and  fiaire  fairly  inspiring. 
Yet,  it  must  be  repeated,  these  two  apparent 
irresponsibles  governed  that  district  justly,  and — 
if  results  were  a  criterion — wisely  as  well. 


270  SIMBA 

Lewis  found  them,  together  with  Kingozi 
and  two  strangers  whom  he  identified  as  casual 
sportsmen,  busily  engaged  on  the  open  space  in 
front  of  the  official  bungalow.  There  for  many 
years  had  stood  an  old  Portuguese  cannon  of 
bronze.  It  was  a  relic  of  a  hundred  years  ago, 
heavily  embossed,  and  of  course  quite  useless  save 
as  an  ornament.  Over  this  ancient  piece  the  five 
white  men  were  engaged.  Five  or  six  hundred 
natives  squatted  interestedly  near  by. 

"The  touch  hole  is  free/'  Bobby  was  saying. 
"I  can  blow  through  her." 

"The  bore  is  none  too  good/'  grunted  Brown 
ing,  who  was  poking  vigorously  down  the  muzzle 
with  a  stick. 

"I'll  bet  the  balls  will  fit  just  the  same,"  re 
joined  Bobby.  "Here,"  he  yelled  in  native 
dialect.  "Bring  some  of  those  iron  stones  there/' 
indicating  an  ornamental  pyramid  of  round 
cannon  balls. 

He  was  about  to  insert  one  of  these  into  the 
muzzle. 

"Hold  on!"  cried  one  of  the  strangers.  "Sup 
pose  it  sticks?  How  are  you  going  to  get  it  out?" 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      271 

"Good  Lord!  I  never  thought  of  that!"  said 
Bobby,  mopping  his  brow. 

"We've  got  to  clean  it  out  until  we're  sure!" 
insisted  Browning. 

They  set  to  work  at  this,  busy  as  bees.  Lewis, 
by  long  experience,  had  learned  better  than  to 
question.  He  sat  down  in  the  shade,  puffed  his 
cheroot,  and  waited  the  event.  The  natives,  too, 
stared  round-eyed. 

"  That'll  do !  Now  let's  load  her ! "  cried  Brown 
ing  triumphantly  at  last. 

"I  don't  suppose  she'd  stand  nitro  powder  or 
cordite,"  said  Bobby  in  some  doubt. 

"I  should  say  not!"  vo  ted  Kingozi  with  emphasis. 

"  I'm  afraid  we  haven't  any  black  powder  except 
a  little  in  some  shotgun  shells.  But  that  wouldn't 
be  enough.  There's  some  blasting  powder — how 
would  that  do?" 

It  was  decided  worth  a  trial.  After  further 
discussion  a  proper  charge  was  agreed  upon,  and 
inserted  into  the  relic.  The  cannon  ball  followed 
and  fitted! 

"We  can  prime  her  with  some  black  powder  out 
of  the  shotgun  shells,"  said  Browning. 


272  SIMBA 

But  now  a  new  difficulty  supervened.  Even 
these  reckless  youths  saw  objections  to  touching 
the  experimental  shot  off  by  hand.  Someone 
produced  blasting  fuse.  But  it  became  necessary 
to  bore  out  the  touch  hole  to  a  larger  size.  At 
length,  however,  all  seemed  to  be  ready. 

"Now,"  cried  Bobby  triumphantly,  "we'll 
just  train  her  on  that  big  rock  on  the  side  hill  there 
and  see  how  she  goes!" 

"This  is  the  time  to  retire  somewhat!"  observed 
Lewis  to  himself. 

The  idea  was  unanimous,  and  promptly  adopted. 
In  ten  seconds  Bobby  Calthorp  alone  was  left. 
He  puffed  his  cheroot  to  a  glow,  held  it  against 
the  end  of  the  fuse — and  fled  wildly  at  the  first 
nerve-shattering  sputter. 

A  smoky,  fizzly  pause;  then  a  tremendous  ex 
plosion  and  a  cloud  of  smoke. 

"  A-a-a-a ! ' '  came  a  native  chorus  of  astonishment. 

Bobby  danced  excitedly  into  the  open. 

"  Did  you  see  that?  How's  that  for  a  shot ! "  he 
shrieked.  "Plunked  her  square  in  the  middle." 
And  indeed  the  iron  ball  had  smashed  the  boulder 
to  bits. 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      273 

They  gathered  interestedly.  The  results  were 
gratifying.  The  cannon  was  intact;  it  had  not 
kicked  itself  loose  from  its  mountings. 

"It  blew  an  awful  blast  from  the  touch  hole," 
observed  one  of  the  sportsmen. 

"Perhaps  you'll  kindly  tell  me  what  you  are 
celebrating?"  inquired  Lewis,  sauntering  up. 

They  fell  upon  him,  all  talking  at  once.  War! 
Germany  against  France  and  Russia,  then  Eng 
land!  Fighting  in  Belgium!  Liege  and  Namur 
both  taken!  Our  troops  are  already  in  France! 
What's  more  we've  been  jolly  well  licked  and 
forced  to  retreat,  but  there's  a  stand  being  made 
at  the  River  Marne. 

"Where  did  you  get  all  this?"  interjected  Lewis. 

"Oh,  beg  pardon,  Mr.  Hobart  and  Captain 
Hardy — Mr.  Lewis,"  said  Browning.  "These 
gentlemen  saw  the  latest  Reuters  on  their  way  in. 
They  were  out  for  some  shootin'." 

"The  dirty  beasts!  Now  we'll  get  a  chance 
at  them!"  cried  Lewis,  his  racial  antagonism 
flaring. 

"We're  going  to  mount  the  cannon  on  the 
Gwendolin^  explained  Bobby  Calthrop,  "and  then 


274  SIMBA 

go  hunt  up  that  German  steamer — the  Hohen- 
zollern!" 

Lewis  seized  the  idea  eagerly.  His  overwrought 
nerves  welcomed  this  outlet.  He  burned  with  a 
fever  of  action.  The  German  swine!  A  hundred 
disagreeable  personal  memories  of  the  travelling 
German  pressed  against  his  recollection.  A  latent, 
unsuspected  antagonism  leaped  within  him,  a  real 
hate.  Take  the  Hohenzollern — that  was  it!  The 
German  swine — hogging  the  piers,  sneaking  into 
covers  that  belonged  to  him,  Lewis,  by  right  of 
discovery,  taking  trade  that  was  his  by  virtue  of 
development ! 

They  impressed  a  hundred  of  the  natives  and 
dragged  the  cannon  and  its  ornamental  balls  down 
to  the  wharves.  There  McCann,  perspiring  and 
patriotically  faithful,  had  been  discharging  cargo. 
A  short  delay  for  rifles  and  various  provisions,  and 
once  more  the  Gwendolin  pointed  her  nose  lake- 
ward. 

Ill 

THE  time  passed  heavily,  even  with  the  Gwen 
dolin  forging  ahead  under  a  forced  draft.  The 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      275 

white  men  smoked  interminably,  discussed  end 
lessly,  jumped  up  and  down,  peered  through 
glasses.  Lewis  was  heading  back  to  Irabanga, 
but  there  was  a  chance  that  the  German  boat 
might  have  taken  on  cargo  and  be  at  sea.  There 
were  a  dozen  false  alarms.  Bobby  Calthrop 
agitatedly  reported  black  smoke,  and  the  Gwen- 
dolin  was  turned  in  its  direction;  but  the  smoke 
turned  out  to  be  one  of  those  drifting,  dense 
clouds  of  flies  for  which  the  Lake  was  famous. 
Again  they  swerved  to  inspect  supposed  masts 
behind  an  island;  and  discovered  only  a  native 
drying  rack.  It  was  all  most  exciting. 

"Beats  lions/'  observed  Hobart.  "Talk  about 
your  big  game!" 

Toward  five  o'clock  the  point  at  Irabanga 
detached  itself  from  the  shoreline  and  swiftly 
approached.  The  white  men  gathered  in  a  group 
on  the  forward  part  of  the  bridge.  A  tense  silence 
fell.  Each  scanned  eagerly  through  his  glasses. 
Foot  by  foot  the  bay  opened  up.  Now  could  be 
seen  the  fringes  of  the  cocoanut  grove,  the  grove 
itself,  some  of  the  native  huts,  the  foot  of  the 
pier,  the  pier  itself 


276  SIMBA 

Bobby  dropped  his  glasses  to  the  end  of  their 
strap  and  uttered  a  cheer.  The  Hohenzollern  was 
there! 

Lewis  personally  took  the  wheel.  Bobby  and 
the  two  sportsmen  rushed  down  the  companion 
and  tore  the  canvas  from  the  artillery.  The 
elephant  hunter  paused  to  light  a  cheroot  in  the 
shelter  of  the  pilot  house,  then  followed.  The 
cheroot  did  not  indicate  a  desire  to  smoke;  it  was 
intended  as  a  slow  fire.  Browning,  as  befitted  his 
high  estate  as  ranking  officer,  walked  back  and 
forth  across  the  bridge.  His  keen  eyes  were 
dancing,  his  brown  hair  was  tumbled,  his  mouth 
was  aquirk  with  mischievous  delight. 

The  Gwendolin  turned  down  the  long,  narrow 
reach  of  the  bay.  The  objects  at  its  foot  began  to 
take  on  definition.  When  about  half  a  mile  from 
the  pier,  Browning  spoke: 

"Half  speed,  captain,"  he  ordered. 

Lewis  obediently  rung  up  half  speed. 

"Way  enough;  stop  her/'  said  Lewis  after  a 
moment. 

The  engines  fell  to  silence.  Then  unexpectedly 
came  Browning's  third  command.  It  was  uttered 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      277 

in  Swahili  and  delivered  with  and  accompanied  by 
items  of  emphasis  that  spoke  much  for  the  D.  C.'s 
knowledge  of  natives.  And  so  efficacious  was  it 
that  the  Gwendolin  rounded  to  her  anchor  about 
three  hundred  yards  from  the  pier. 

"What  did  you  do]  that  for?"  someone  in 
quired  out  of  the  amazement. 

"Gentlemen,  I  consider  this  about  a  sporting 
distance,"  said  Browning  calmly.  "Prepare  to 
fire." 

Lewis  at  the  wheel  felt  within  him  a  slight 
movement  of  protest.  It  seemed  only  fair  first  to 
summon  the  Hohenzollern  to  surrender.  But  what 
difference?  The  super-excited  lunatics  in  the 
waist  were  completely  absorbed  in  technical 
problems. 

"The  bally  thing  will  not  swing  far  enough/1 
panted  Bobby,  tugging  at  a  rope. 

"For  heaven's  sake  don't  jiggle  her  so;  you'll 
lose  all  the  priming  powder,"  urged  Harding. 

"  Can't  you  just  give  her  a  kick  with  the  screw, 
old  man?"  the  elephant  hunter  implored  Lewis. 
"She  may  swing." 

Lewis  obligingly  kicked  her. 


278  SIMBA 

" Great!"  howled  Bobby,  snatched  the  cheroot 
from  the  elephant  hunter,  and  pressed  it  against 
the  end  of  the  fuse. 

Everybody  scattered  precipitately;  everybody 
but  Bobby,  who  remained  near  the  breech.  An 
explosion  shook  the  Gwendolin  to  her  keel.  Bob 
by's  agonized  voice  arose  from  the  dense  cloud 
of  smoke. 

"I  can't  see  a  damn  thing!"  he  wailed,  "where 
did  she  hit?" 

But  that  nobody  could  tell.  The  foot  of  the 
bay,  the  pier,  the  Hohenzollern,  and  the  jungle 
beyond  slept  peacefully  in  the  late  afternoon 
sunlight. 

"Must  have  overshot,"  was  the  opinion  of  the 
elephant  hunter.  "Or  we'd  have  seen  it  hit." 

A  few  scared-looking  natives  peeped  out  of  the 
jungle  and  disappeared.  There  was  no  other  sign 
of  life. 

"We'll  have  to  raise  the  breech  some  way," 
said  Bobby.  "See  if  some  of  you  can't  find  a 
block." 

They  raised  the  breech  after  a  fashion;  they 
swabbed  out  the  bore  against  lingering  sparks; 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      279 

they  reloaded  it  with  more  blasting  powder  and 
another  of  the  ornamental  cannon  balls;  they 
filled  the  vent  with  shotgun  powder,  and  laid 
thereto  another  length  of  fuse.  Then  Captain 
Lewis  kicked  her  again  with  the  screw,  and  at 
what  was  deemed  the  proper  moment  the  ancient 
piece  was  again  touched  off.  Same  result. 

"We're  out  of  range,"  ventured  Harding. 

"We  are  not!"  countered  Bobby  in  heated  de 
fense  of  his  piece.  "We'd  have  seen  the  splash 
if  we'd  fallen  short." 

"Then  you're  a  rotten  shot,"  Harding  pointed 
the  alternative. 

"Well,  let's  see  you  do  better!"  cried  Bobby. 

It  took  some  time  to  reload  and  relay  the  old 
cannon.  Shots  were  at  least  five  minutes  apart. 
Harding  had  a  try,  with  no  better  luck;  and  then 
each  of  the  others.  All  but  Captain  Lewis.  He 
stayed  by  the  wheel,  but  was  as  much  excited  as 
the  rest.  To  a  dispassionate  observer  the  con 
trast  would  have  been  interesting — the  bustle 
and  bluster,  excitement,  sweat,  and  noise  aboard 
the  Gwendolin;  the  thunderous  blasts,  leaping 
flame,  and  dense  clouds  of  smoke;  and  the  peaceful 


28o  SIJVTBA 

lower  end  of  the  bay,  its  waters  mirroring  placidly 
the  rickety  pier,  the  chubby  old  steamboat,  the 
motionless  jungle  and  the  sky. 

"Look  over  her  for  yourself !"  cried  Bobby  in 
answer  to  some  sarcasm.  "She  must  jump  high. 
She's  fairly  pointing  at  the  water  now,  you 
couldn't  lower  the  muzzle  any  more.  I  don't 
understand  it!" 

But  at  this  moment  Lewis  came  storming  down 
from  the  bridge  where  for  some  moments  he  had 
tried  in  vain  to  make  himself  heard. 

"Here,  you  bally  idiots!"  he  shrieked  in  their 
ears.  "Attend  to  me  a  moment!  You're  not 
going  high;  you're  too  low!" 

"Then  you'd  see  a  splash "  insisted  Bobby, 

doggedly  sticking  to  his  point. 

"I  tell  you  we're  too  far  away "  said  Hard 
ing,  sticking  to  his. 

"  For  heaven's  sake  listen  to  me ! "  howled  Lewis, 
exasperated  beyond  all  measure. 

He  got  their  attention  finally.  It  seemed  that 
he  had  just  noticed  something.  Possibly  the  first 
shot  had  gone  high — who  knows?  But  the  piece 
had  been  depressed  too  much  for  all  subsequent, 


EDGE    OF    THE    RIPPLE      281 

that  was  sure.  The  balls  fitted  very  loosely  in 
the  bore.  They  stayed  atop  the  powder  where 
they  were  rammed  only  until  they  were  jarred. 
When  the  screw  of  the  ship  "kicked"  her  around 
they  were  so  jarred,  and  they  simply  rolled  out 
the  muzzle  and  overside.  Only  blanks  were  being 
fired.  How  did  he  know?  He  had  seen  the  last 
ball  splash  alongside  the  ship. 

"Well,  of  all  the  bally  idiots !"  cried  Bobby.' 
"What  we  need  is  wadding." 

They  procured  wadding,  relaid  the  gun  at  a 
guess.  The  next  shot  was  a  success;  that  is,  it 
was  seen  to  splash  water  a  hundred  yards  or  so 
from  the  mark.  But  the  one  succeeding!  A 
rending  crash  of  timbers  succeeded  the  shot, 
and  splinters  flew  from  the  piling  fifty  feet  astern 
the  Hohenzollern. 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Browning.  "We've  got  the 
elevation!  Swing  her  a  little." 

But  now  for  the  first  time  life  showed  aboard 
the  German  ship.  The  pilot-house  door  swung 
open,  and  a  huge  figure  in  pajamas  waddled  to 
the  rail  and  raised  a  megaphone. 

"Look  oudt!    Look  oudt!"  bellowed  Heine's 


282  SIMBA 

voice  in  irritated  tones.  "What  you  do?  If 
you  don't  look  a  leedle  oudt  you're  going  to  hit 
my  bo-ut!"  He  lowered  his  megaphone,  wiped 
his  brow,  and  raised  the  instrument  again.  "Oh, 
Lewis!"  he  roared,  "when  you  get  through  das 
celebradtion  coom  ofer  und  half  chakula  /"  Then 
he  turned  his  broad  back,  waddled  into  the  pilot 
house,  and  the  door  closed  behind  him. 

A  blank  pause  ensued. 

"He  thinks  we're  salutin'  the  King's  birthday!" 
cried  Bobby  disgustedly. 

"Heave  up  that  anchor  there!"  commanded 
Lewis  with  decision.  "We  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  ourselves!" 

Fifteen  minutes  later  Heine  leaned  on  the  rail 
watching  the  receding  smoke  of  the  Gwendolin. 
He  smoked  a  porcelain  pipe. 

"So  there  is  war,"  he  said  to  himself.  "Such 
foolishness!  What  does  it  make  for  me?  Still, 
there  are  n'jugu  nuts.  And  now  I  am  safe. 
They  will  not  bother  me.  There  is  no  defense 
so  good  as  a  laugh." 


CHAPTER  IX 
COW  IVORY 

A)NG  the  front  of  the  hotel  at  Mombasa 
— just  below  the  equator  and  across  the 
way  from  spicy  Zanzibar — runs  a  broad 
second-story  veranda  paved  with  cool,  smooth 
tile,  and  looking  out  through  arches  to  the  coral 
roadway  and  the  palms  and  gorgeous  flowering 
trees  of  a  park.  Heavy  teak- wood  lazy  chairs 
with  adjustable  leg  rests  stand  in  a  row.  Quiet 
black  men  spring  to  magical  visibility  at  a  call. 
Tepid  breezes  wander  in  from  the  perfumed  tropi 
cal  night;  and  in  the  long  silences  the  occupants 
of  the  lazy  chairs,  listening  attentively,  can  hear 
the  soft  growl  of  the  Indian  Ocean  under  a  sailing 
moon. 

One  steamer  night  three  of  the  teak-wood 
chairs  were  occupied  by  men  smoking  in  the 
evening  comfort  of  pajamas.  Two  of  them  had 
come  out  on  the  ship  just  arrived;  the  third, 

283 


284  SIMBA 

a  slow-moving  quiet  man  with  a  rumbling  great 
voice  and  a  bushy  great  beard,  had  met  them  in 
the  harbour,  had  piloted  them  to  the  hotel,  had 
fed  them  and  drunk  them  and  smoked  them  and 
now  was  talking  to  them  slowly,  between  puffs 
of  his  cheroot.  For  he  was  Culbertson,  ex- 
elephant  hunter,  for  the  moment  Ship's  Agent; 
and  these  two  men  were  of  some  importance  to 
the  Company. 

"I'll  agree  with  you,"  Culbertson  alias  Kingozi, 
by  which  name  he  was  best  known,  was  saying  to 
the  eldest  of  the  three,  Lord  Marshlands,  a  small, 
quiet,  efficient  tanned  man,  "it  was  a  fine  thing — 
any  sacrifice  is.  But  it  was  not,  as  you  think, 
the  highest  of  all.  Sacrifice  of  life  is  nothing, 
any  more  than  mere  personal  courage.  They  are 
too  common." 

"Oh,  I  say!"  objected  the  youngest,  a  fresh- 
faced  eager  boy  of  twenty-five.  "That's  a  little 
steep,  isn't  it?" 

Culberston  smiled  at  him. 

"Not  a  bit.  Courage  is  the  commonest  thing 
there  is,  only  it  doesn't  happen  to  be  called  out  in 
everyday  Kfe  So  when  a  man  walks  up  to  a 


COW    IVORY  285 

lion  we  shiver  and  applaud  him  for  bravery;  but 
when  in  war  a  hundred  thousand  men  green  from 
the  city  stick  tight,  we  take  it  for  granted.  Am  I 
right,  Marshlands?" 

The  little  man  nodded.  Kingozi  paused  to 
allow  a  screaming  native  row  in  the  street  below 
to  die  down.  This  it  did  on  the  mere  appearance 
of  a  tall,  smart  Nubian  policeman  in  tarboush, 
red  kummerbund,  and  shining  buckles. 

"It  really  means  more  for  a  man  to  sacrifice  his 
ideals  or  his  self-respect  for  another  than  for  him 
to  sacrifice  his  life,"  went  on  Kingozi,  reaching  his 
hand  for  the  drink  at  his  elbow.  "But  that 
doesn't  matter.  It's  the  fact  of  sacrifice  that 
really  counts,  and  not  what  is  sacrificed,  for  it 
implies  something  in  the  world  stronger  than  the 
individual — no  bad  things  these  times." 

"I'd  like  to  know  whether  I'll  funk  it  when  I 
run  up  against  my  first  lion,"  blurted  out  the  young 
man,  who  had  not  been  paying  the  slightest  at 
tention  to  Kingozi' s  line  of  thought. 

"Not  you  Carson,  I  know  your  type,"  said 
the  Ship's  Agent  kindly.  His  big  voice  rumbled 
on,  deliberately,  dispassionately,  unfolding  his 


286  SIMBA 

argument.  "  There  are  various  things  bigger  tnan 
the  individual,"  he  continued,  "such  as  patriotism, 
friendship,  an  idea — but  most  often  love."  He 
chuckled  hugely,  and  gulped  down  his  drink. 
"Boy!"  he  shouted.  A  white-robed  figure  de 
tached  itself  from  the  shadows  and  glided  to  his 
side.  "Lime  juicy  n'gini,"  ordered  Culbertson. 
He  chuckled  again.  "Eh,  my  lad?  And  the 
tragedy  lies  generally  not  in  the  sacrifice,  but  in 
the  uselessness  of  it." 

"I  suppose  you  know  what  you  are  driving  at," 
said  Lord  Marshlands  resignedly.  "Is  it  essen 
tial  that  I  continue  to  listen?  It  is  a  hot  night." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  Marsabit  cow  ivory?" 
demanded  Kingozi  abruptly. 

"Can't  say  I  have,"  said  Marshlands.  Young 
Carson  pricked  up  his  ears.  He  remembered  that 
Kingozi  had  been  the  greatest  elephant  hunter  of 
his  times. 

"Ten  years  ago  four  men  made  safari  north  of 
Kenia  into  the  Marsabit  country,"  continued 
Kingozi.  "They  were  after  ivory,  and  as  it  was 
a  commercial  transaction,  they  did  not  care 
particularly  how  they  got  it.  The  country  was 


COW    IVORY  287 

then  unknown.  You're  going  up  there  on  your 
shoot,  aren't  you,  Carson?" 

The  young  man  nodded. 

"Well,  you'll  find  it  a  different  place  now.  The 
natives  are  all  nice  and  tame;  you  can  buy  jam 
and  marmalade  at  Meru  boma — plenty  of  game 
though.  But  then — well,  I  fancy  those  chaps 
earned  their  ivory!  They  took  long  enough  at  it 
— gone  two  years.  Nice  dry  sort  of  country,  with 
water  holes  sixty  miles  apart,  thorn  scrub,  hot, 
funny,  unknown  tribes  with  interesting  ideas  and 
spears.  But  plenty  elephants;  and  considerable 
trade  ivory  to  be  had — Lord!  a  fine  country  for  a 
real  man!  They  must  have  been  real  men,  for 
they  all  came  out  alive,  and  they  hadn't  any  of 
them  murdered  each  other.  That's  no  joke, 
I  tell  you.  Under  the  equator,  two  years,  hard 
country,  no  luxuries,  no  rest — and  everybody 
happy  enough  not  to  bite,  anyway.  Furthermore, 
they  were  rich.  I  don't  suppose  so  valuable 
a  safari  of  ivory  ever  was  got  together  before.  You 
know  there's  a  lot  of  difference  in  ivory.  Just 
lay  out  a  few  random  tusks  before  an  Indian 
buyer,  if  you  don't  believe  it.  He'll  pick  it  out 


288  SIMBA 

for  you!  Matter  of  grain  and  density,  how  well 
it  will  carve,  what  its  resiliency  is — oh,  a  lot  of 
things!  But  the  best  ivory  of  all  is  cow  ivory. 
Finer,  more  bounce,  great  stuff!  Most  first- 
quality  billiard  balls  used  to  be  made  of  cow  ivory. 
Costs  like  blazes,  and  it  ought  to;  for  besides  being 
of  better  quality,  a  cow's  tusks  rarely  weigh  over 
fifteen  or  twenty  pounds  to  the  pair.  A  good 
bull,  as  you  know,  runs  to  a  hundred  or  more. 

"It  was  the  custom  in  those  days  to  take  what 
ever  came  along.  These  men  had  made  a  great 
haul.  They  arrived  at  the  Guaso  Nyero  River — 
I  believe  they  had  camels  and  Somali  drivers- 
after  a  sixty-mile  trek  without  water,  just  about 
done  up,  but  pretty  happy.  There  they  got  a 
shock. 

"The  usual  way  out  from  that  country  crossed 
where  Arthur  Neumann  later  made  his  head 
quarters  at  what  he  called  Campi  ya  N'Yama 
Yangu.  They  and  their  camels  and  their  Somalis 
and  their  miscellaneous  natives  dropped  in  late. 
.  As  a  usual  thing  a  man  always  crosses  a  river 
before  making  camp — just  in  case  it  might  rise 
during  the  night — but  this  was  the  dry  season  and 


COW    IVORY  289 

they  done  up,  so  they  camped  on  the  north  bank. 
That  was  a  lucky  thing.  For  shortly  after  dark 
they  caught  the  gleam  of  fires  across  the  way. 
Some  of  their  men,  wading  across  to  investigate, 
returned  to  say  that  a  white  man's  safari  was 
encamped  there.  The  hunters  got  themselves 
carried  over,  and  shortly  found  themselves  in  the 
presence  of  a  very  trim,  businesslike  young  officer 
of  the  K.  A.  R.— The  King's  African  Rifles,  you 
know,"  Kingozi  explained  to  young  Carson. 

"He  was  a  decent  sort,  and  I  always  thought  he 
pretty  well  suspected  the  situation  and  took  pains 
to  give  indirect  warning.  It  would  have  been 
only  decent  of  him,  in  the  circumstances.  He 
invited  them  to  his  quarters — you  know  the 
official  camp;  green  double  tent  with  a  fly  out 
front,  canvas  chairs,  folding  table,  siphon  of 
sparklets.  From  him  they  immediately  learned 
that  British  East  Africa  had  overnight,  as  it  were, 
become  an  administered  political  unit. 

"  'You  chaps  are  out  of  a  job  here  now  y'know,' 
the  young  officer  told  them.  '  Game  laws  going, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Two  elephants  all 
you're  allowed,  on  special  license,  costs  ten 


2QO  SIMBA 

pound.  Of  course  I'll  certificate  your  ivory  as 
coming  from  outside.  But  it's  lucky  you  have  no 
cow  ivory.  You  told  me  you  had  no  cow  ivory, 
did  you  not?'  They  hadn't  told  him  that,  but 
they  nodded  back  at  him,  waiting.  'Contra 
band;  absolutely/  he  told  them.  '  Confiscated 
wherever  found;  goes  to  the  government.' 

"They  returned  to  their  own  camp  as  soon  as 
possible.  The  bulk  of  their  wealth,  of  their  two 
years'  work  in  the  waterless  thorn,  was  in  cow 
ivory.  There  was  but  one  opinion :  It  must  be 
hidden,  pending  better  understanding  of  the  con 
ditions,  and  since  natives  are  notoriously  uncer 
tain  and  leaky,  it  must  be  hidden  secretly  and  at 
once.  That  was  no  light  problem.  Think  it  over; 
several  camel  loads  of  ivory  to  move;  several 
dozen  of  their  own  men  to  avoid;  only  one  black, 
an  old  gunbearer,  they  could  thoroughly  trust. 
Finally  they  called  the  leading  Somalis,  made 
them  load  the  camels;  and  then  three  of  the  whites 
started  out  alone  with  the  gunbearer.  The  fourth, 
his  elephant  rifle  across  his  arm,  sat  by  a  big  fire 
in  the  clear  light  of  which  were  huddled  the  per 
sonnel  of  the  party.  Not  a  man  was  allowed  to* 


COW    IVORY  291 

move  a  foot  for  any  purpose  whatsoever.  All 
night  long  they  sat  there  in  grim  silence.  The 
dawn  broke;  daylight  came;  the  sun  rose.  From 
across  the  river  were  heard  the  sounds  of  activity 
in  the  soldiers'  camp.  The  watcher  must  have 
become  very  anxious.  At  last  the  three  white  men 
and  the  gunbearer  and  the  camels  returned. 
They  were  all  exhausted,  for  it  must  be  remem 
bered  they  had  been  travelling  practically  since 
the  morning  before.  The  man  in  the  chair  laid 
aside  his  elephant  gun." 

"By  Jove,  Culbertson,  you  tell  it  well,"  said 
Marshlands  in  the  pause  that  ensued.  Carson 
made  no  remark.  The  big  man  nodded  in  an 
absent-minded  fashion.  He  was  staring  straight 
ahead  of  him,  far  out  into  the  soft  velvet  curtain 
of  the  tropical  night,  as  though  he  were  actually 
seeing  beyond  the  hills,  beyond  the  years,  to  the 
dry,  hot,  flinty  thorn  scrub  of  the  Guaso  Nyero. 

"They'd  buried  it,"  his  deep,  booming  voice 
went  on  after  awhile — "you  know  buried  ivory  is 
good  forever — doesn't  hurt  it  to  go  underground. 
Being  white  men,  and  intelligent  ones,  they  had 
buried  it  barely  beyond  earshot  of  the  camp — 


292  SIMBA 

just  as  well  there  as  anywhere  else.  The  rest  of 
the  night  they  had  put  in  trekking  around  here, 
there  and  everywhere,  so  that  anybody  following 
the  spoor  wouldn't  get  much  of  anywhere. 
Plenty  tried  it.  There  were  twenty-odd  deser 
tions  that  day;  and  every  mother's  son  took  the 
back  track  of  those  camels.  Somalis  are  no 
fools.  They  already  had  the  news  from  the  other 
camp  that  cow  ivory  was  contraband;  and  they 
were  quite  capable  of  putting  two  and  two  to 
gether.  Fat  lot  of  good  it  did  them.  They  all 
overshot  the  mark;  never  occurred  to  any  of  them 
that  it  could  be  so  near  camp.  Any  of  'em  except 
one  old  camel  driver.  He  overshot  too,  but  he 
soon  came  back.  How  he  knew  I  don't  know; 
perhaps  he  was  like  that  old  Johnny  in  the  Arabian 
nights  who  deduced  so  much  from  tracks,  and 
knew  when  the  camels  had  gone  on  light.  Any 
how  he  came  back,  and  began  to  grub  around  with 
a  stick  perilous  close'to  the  proper  place.  The  gun- 
bearer,  who  was  up  a  tree  watching  for  something 
like  that,  reported  it  to  the  white  men  in  camp. 
One  of  them  went  out  and  attended  to  the  case." 
"How's  that?"  asked  Carson. 


COW    IVORY  293 

"Scuppered  him." 

"Not  killed  him?" 

Kingozi  turned  a  wide  stare  on  the  young  man. 
There  was  in  it  something  blank,  inscrutable, 
sinister.  It  was  as  though  through  the  soft  night 
had  come  a  breath  from  the  fierce  veldt,  as  though 
for  an  instant  veils  had  been  rent  showing  the 
face  of  Africa. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Kingozi  simply,  after  a 
moment.  He  looked  away. 

"If  I  were  writing  a  story,  I  should  call  that 
the  end  of  Part  One,"  he  went  on.  "And  in 
writing  the  heading  Part  Two,  I  should  add 
Ten  Years  Later!" 

"But  what  became  of  the  ivory?"  interrupted 
Carson. 

"It  is  there  yet — most  of  it — buried,  and  only 
five  living  men  know  exactly  where." 

"Why  hasn't  it  been  taken  out?"  asked  young 
Carson. 

"It  is  impossible  to  get  it  out — the  owners 
would  like  well  enough  to  realize  on  it." 

Carson  jerked  his  legs  from  the  arm-extensions 
of  his  chair  and  sat  upright. 


294  SIMBA 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  all  that  wealth 
has  remained  buried  there  for  years  simply 
because  these  men  couldn't  get  it  out  of  the 
country?" 

"Precisely  that,"  replied  Kingozi. 

"But " 

"I  know;  but,  believe  me,  the  expedient  you 
are  about  to  suggest — whatever  it  is — has  been 
thought  of,  and  canvassed,  and  reluctantly  aban 
doned  long  years  ago.  It  looks  simple — a  big, 
wild  continent,  thousands  of  miles  of  unpoliced 
coastline.  In  reality,  it  is  an  impossible  situation. 
I'm  not  going  to  canvass  the  possibilities — there 
are  too  many  of  them,  but  I'll  run  over  a  few. 
It  is  impossible  to  get  it  out  through  British  East 
Africa,  that's  agreed.  The  stuff  is  contraband, 
and  is  confiscated  where  found.  Suppose  we  try 
the  East  coast  anywhere;  it  is  a  good  three 
months'  journey  from  where  the  ivory  is  buried 
to  the  sea;  natives  cannot  keep  a  secret;  many 
bearers  would  be  required  to  carry  out  that 
amount  of  ivory;  the  route  would  have  to  be  led 
somewhere  through  savage  tribes.  Long  before 
the  three  months  were  up  the  authorities  would 


COW    IVORY  295 

have  wind  of  the  expedition.  Dispassionate  figur 
ing  shows  the  chances  to  be  a  hundred  to  one 
against.  The  same  objection  applies  to  an  attempt 
to  pass  to  the  south  toward  German — or  better 
Portuguese — ports.  The  route  leads  through 
Uganda.  The  south  and  east  are  therefore  closed/' 

He  paused  to  draw  on  his  cheroot.  His  com 
panions,  their  interest  thoroughly  intrigued, 
considered  the  problem  attentively,  with  knitted 
brows.  Lord  Marshland  was  the  first  to  drop 
back  to  a  reclining  position. 

"You're  right,"  he  acknowledged. 

"But "  interposed  Carson  again.  Kingozi 

silenced  him  with  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

"There  remain  the  north  and  the  west.  Un 
doubtedly  that  ivory  could  be  carried  up  through 
Abyssinia  to  some  port  on  the  Red  Sea  and 
thence  distributed  to  the  markets  of  the  world. 
But  it  would  not  arrive  as  a  single  consignment. 
Long  before  it  would  have  dissipated,  a  tusk  here, 
a  tusk  there,  in  honga  to  the  avarice  of  the  various 
petty  chiefs,  sultans,  viziers,  and  other  potentates 
through  whose  territory  the  caravan  must  march. 
No  nation  has  ever  got  much  change  out  of  the 


296  SIMBA 

Abyssinians.  If  the  original  owners  retained  five 
per  cent,  of  what  they  started  with,  they  would 
be  considered  extremely  lucky.  In  fact,  I  should 
consider  them  extremely  lucky  to  get  through 
alive.  As  to  Somaliland,  that  would  be  a  case  of 
spear  and  loot  without  fail.  The  Somalis  are  a 
handsome  and  engaging  people;  but  as  has  been 
recently  discovered  theirs  is  a  poor  coast  on  which 
to  be  wrecked.  To  the  west  is  the  width  of  the 
African  continent.  All  the  objections  to  the 
other  routes  apply  to  this." 

"But,  look  here "  interposed  Carson  for  the 

third  time. 

"It  looks  easy  at  first,"  said  Kingozi,  "but 
before  you  commit  yourself,  take  time  to  think 
it  over.  If  at  the  end  of  three  days  you  still 
have  a  scheme  that  looks  feasible,  let  me  know. 
I'll  put  you  in  communication  with  some  men 
who  will  make  you  money!"  He  chuckled. 
"  Quite  a  few  have  that  offer  under  advisement. 

"We  now  come  to  what  might  be  called  Part 
Three  of  the  yarn.  Leading  characters  are  an 
Englishman  and  his  young  brother,  whom  we  will 
call  Braxton;  and  one  of  the  four  ivory  hunters 


COW    IVORY  297 

whom  I  will  designate  as  Middleton.  The  two 
Englishmen  were  going  out  to  East  Africa  as 
settlers.  I  met  them  all  on  one  of  the  German 
ships,  and  for  the  usual  three  weeks  saw  a  good 
deal  of  them  as  we  wallowed  and  broiled  down 
the  Red  Sea  and  the  Indian  Ocean.  Our  company 
was  limited.  There  were  the  usual  lot  of  petty 
German  civil  and  military  officers  bound  for  Dar 
es-salaam,  gross,  brusque,  disagreeable,  drinking 
from  morning  until  night,  noisy  by  evening,  their 
heads  shaved  close  to  show  pink  knobs,  hiving  by 
themselves  and  everybody  glad  of  it — I  suppose 
they  send  their  cubs  down  to  fill  the  petty  offices 
in  their  colonies.  Also  there  were  a  Greek  en 
gineer  and  his  Roumanian  bride,  a  Belgian 
officer  in  charge  of  blooded  horses  to  improve 
their  stock  in  the  upper  Congo,  three  or  four 
English  and  Americans  going  out  for  a  shoot,  a 
Commercial  Agent  or  so — you  know  the  lot. 
None  of  them  interested  me  a  great  deal  except 
those  settler  chaps.  The  elder,  Seton  Braxton, 
was  the  ordinary  clean-cut  young  fellow  of  just 
under  thirty,  tanned,  likeable,  untrained  to  lab 
our  or  the  organization  of  his  life,  like  plenty 


298  SIMBA 

others  of  his  class,  clipping  his  speech  short,  game 
for  anything,  high  ideas  but  not  much  judgment, 
good  example  of  your  class,  Marshlands,  before 
it  gets  the  hard  knocks." 

The  nobleman  bowed  his  ironic  acknowledg 
ments. 

"But  the  youngster,  who  was  called  Charley, 
was  a  different  sort.  He  had  short  curly  hair, 
bright  dancing  eyes,  rosy  boyish  cheeks,  rounded 
chin,  and  small  hands  and  feet.  He  was  a  slirr: 
chap,  but  fully  in  charge  of  himself — made  of 
whipcord — the  slender  but  graceful  thing,  you 
know.  His  voice  was  low  and  had  a  rich  quality, 
except  when  he  got  excited  or  laughed.  Then  it 
ran  up  to  a  treble.  I  should  have  said  he  was 
just  past  the  change  of  his  voice. 

"Everybody  took  to  Charley  immediately, 
even  those  little  noisy  German  officers.  He  had 
an  insatiate  curiosity — was  all  over  the  ship, 
investigating  everything,  asking  the  most  absurd 
questions.  I  used  to  wonder  where  and  how  the 
boy  had  been  brought  up;  he  possessed  a  fine 
mind,  and  had  been  well  educated,  but  he  had  the 
most  astonishing  blank  places  of  ignorance,  often 


COW    IVORY  299 

about  the  most  ordinary  things,  that  the  majority 
of  men  get  as  matters  of  practical  experience. 
My  conclusion  that  he  had  probably  been  brought 
up  under  shelter  was  corroborated  by  the  care 
taken  of  him  by  his  older  brother.  He  looked 
after  Charley  like  a  dry  nurse.  I  often  wondered 
why  the  youngster  did  not  resent  this  surveillance 
— most  boys  of  spirit  would  have  been  inclined  to 
kick  over  the  traces.  After  all,  a  boy  has  to 
begin  to  go  among  men  some  time;  and  we  were  a 
pretty  decent  lot,  as  men  go.  Some  of  the  more 
irresponsible  concocted  some  sort  of  scheme  to 
lure  Charley  into  the  smoking  room  and  get  him 
a  bit  tight.  Sort  of  do  the  kid  good;  but  Seton 
Braxton  looked  competent  in  some  ways,  and  the 
scheme  fell  through. 

"As  I  learned  their  situation,  I  felt  a  trifle  sick 
over  it;  but  I  didn't  say  a  word.  No  use  being  a 
bird  of  ill-omen  unless  it  will  do  some  practical 
good. 

"They  were  only  sons,  no  collateral  relatives, 
two  thousand  pounds  in  cash  realized  from  the 
sale  of  their  estate,  and  they  were  going  out  to 
East  Africa  as  settlers!" 


300  SIMBA 

Kingozi  had  forgotten  that  he  was — for  the 
moment ! — a  peaceful  and  responsible  Ship's  Agent 
and  had  become  again  in  spirit  the  old  Afrikander 
the  elephant  hunter,  with  the  hunter's  large  and 
generous  contempt  of  and  distrust  in  all  settling. 

"If  there  is  one  country  in  the  world,"  he  w^ent 
on  with  emphasis,  "that  is  not  a  white  man's 
country — to  settle  in — it  is  East  Africa.  Oh,  I 
know  all  the  stock  arguments;  I've  read  'em  by 
the  ream  in  beautiful  printed  pamphlets  issued 
by  railroads,  promoters — and  Governments!  But 
I've  lived  here  a  good  many  years.  There's  a 
curse  on  the  country.  Perhaps  some  day  it  will 
be  lifted — science,  inoculation,  drainage — who 
knows?"  His  eye  had  become  dreamy  with 
speculation.  He  came  back  with  a  snap.  "But 
now?  Marshlands,  can  you  pick  me  out  six 
men — I'd  say  one,  if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that 
there  is  always  a  percentage  of  ineradicable  folly 
— six  men,  owning  land,  who  have  been  in  this 
country  three  years  or  over,  whose  property  is  not 
for  sale?" 

Lord  Marshlands  smiled  and  shook  his  grizzled 
head. 


COW    IVORY  301 

"You  have  the  floor.  I'm  not  going  to  dispute 
you — or  corroborate  you,"  he  evaded  diplomati 
cally. 

"Finest  looking  country  in  the  world.  Good 
climate  in  the  highlands.  A  man  does  well  for  a 
while,  and  then  something  new  comes  along  and 
hits  him,  something  he  never  heard  of  before, 
some  novelty  in  the  way  of  wheat  blights,  or 
cattle  disease — and  he's  wiped  off  the  slate. 
Country's  still  there."  Kingozi  snorted  explo 
sively.  "And  no  matter  how  healthy  a  man  can 
keep  himself,  it's  no  place  to  raise  children;  and  if 
you  can't  raise  children  it  isn't  a  white  man's 
country.  Yet  they  lure  'em  out  here  with  their 
folders  and  their  lies,  and  turn  'em  loose,  and  to 
hell  with 'em!" 

"You  said  you'd  been  here  some  years,  didn't 
you?"  interposed  Carson,  with  a  blank,  too- 
innocent  expression. 

Kingozi  roared  out  his  great  laugh. 

" Fair  hit,  youngster ! "  he  acknowledged.  "But 
I'm  not  a  settler.  I'm  out  for  a  free  life,  adven 
ture — I  don't  know  what.  Dreeing  my  wierd,  I 
suppose.  And  make  no  mistake,  it's  the  greatest 


3o2  'SI  MB  A 

country  in  the  world  to  the  adventurous  spirit. 
It's  the  last  frontier.  What  the  race  is  going  to 
use  to  bite  on  when  it  is  gone  I  can't  imagine — 
however,  I  won't  be  here.  Fortunately  most  young 
fellows  who  think  they  come  out  here  to  be  set 
tlers,  really,  down  deep,  are  after  adventure, 
romance.  It  is  romantic,  you  know.  Even  I, 
after  all  these  years  of  it,  have  still  a  full  apprecia 
tion. 

"I  must  say  the  B  rax  tons  had  gone  into  it 
deeper  than  most  of  the  young  fools  who  rush  out 
here  blind.  The  youngster,  Charley,  was  a  per 
fect  storehouse  of  book  theory.  He  had  read 
everything  ever  printed  on  the  subject,  I  should 
think.  And  somebody  in  the  firm  had  a  level 
head.  I  rather  suspect  Charley,  again.  Anyway, 
he  explained  it  to  me  in  a  sort  of  eager  way  he 
had. 

"'You  see  we  can't  afford  to  make  mistakes/ 
he  told  me.  '  We've  got  this  two  thousand  pounds, 
and  we  neither  of  us  have  been  taught  to  get  an 
other.  So  we've  looked  into  matters  pretty  deeply 
and  it  seems  more  sensible  to  us  to  go  in  for  some 
thing  that  naturally  grows  in  the  country  rather 


COW    IVORY  303 

than  to  try  to  go  in  for  things  like  wheat  or  wool- 
sheep  that  aren't  indigenous/ 

"I  approved  of  that,  and  asked  him  what  it  was. 

"'Coffee/ said  he. 

"Then,  seeing  I  was  interested,  he  opened  up 
on  coffee.  You'd  have  no  idea  there  was  so 
much  to  know  about  coffee.  By  the  time  Charley 
had  finished  with  me  he  had  my  brain  convinced 
that  it  was  a  sure  thing — I  couldn't  pick  a  flaw 
anywhere  in  the  scheme.  But  I  was  an  old  Afri 
kander;  and  there  was  something  way  down  deep 
inside  of  me  that  wasn't  convinced.  There's  a 
curse  on  the  country,  that's  all  there  is  to  it. 
But  I  didn't  tell  Charley  that;  what  was  the  use? 
He  was  all  sanguine  and  sure.  I  was  not  so  certain 
about  Seton.  He  always  hovered  around  un 
easily,  very  silent,  pulling  his  short  moustache, 
and  in  his  eyes  an  anxiety  that  Charley  did  not 
have. 

"Well,  I'm  not  going  to  spin  this  out,  for  I 
didn't  start  to  tell  you  about  the  Braxtons'  coffee 
plantation.  We  landed  at  Mombasa  and  im 
mediately  went  up  country.  I  started  into 
the  French  Congo  after  ivory.  Fine  trip,  all  but 


304  SIMBA 

the  finish.  We  lost  most  of  our  ivory  because  a 
pestiferous  little  French  official  went  farther  east 
than  he  had  ever  gone  before.  I  suppose  we  were 
poaching — technically. 

"When  I  got  back  to  Nairobi  and  had  seen  all 
my  friends  I  found  that  the  Braxtons  had  found 
some  land  that  was  suitable  out  Fort  Hall  way. 
On  my  way  to  hunt  elephants  in  Kenia  I  stopped 
to  see  them.  They  were  living  in  a  grass-roofed 
hut — one  of  these  circular  affairs  built  of  papyrus 
stalks,  dirt  floor,  peaked  roof.  Had  out  a  be 
wildering  lot  of  young  coffee  plants  which  they 
were  cultivating  themselves  with  the  aid  of  what 
ever  Kikuyus  they  could  pick  up.  Living  on 
buck,  of  which  there  were  plenty,  and  mealie- 
meal  mostly.  Seton  Braxton  had  killed  his  first 
lion,  and  Charley  had  been  there  to  see;  they  had 
poison  out  for  a  leopard  that  had  been  hanging 
around;  every  time  they  went  down  near  a  papy 
rus  swamp  on  their  place  they  stood  a  chance 
of  having  to  dodge  a  crossgrained  old  lot  of 
buffalo;  were  anxiously  figuring  on  keeping  zebras 
out  of  their  garden;  heard  hyenas  every  night — 
in  fact,  were  living  in  a  regular  story  book  of 


COW    IVORY  305 

romance.  All  they  needed  was  a  little  income  to 
make  the  whole  thing  a  howling  success." 

Kingozi  grunted,  and  shifted  his  weight.  The 
teak-wood  chair  creaked  violently,  and  at  the 
sound  the  alert,  white-clad  figure  sprang  from  the 
shadow  of  the  archway  to  his  side. 

"Bwana  nataka  nini?"  inquired  Simba. 

"  Hapana"  negatived  Kingozi,  and  theboy  faded 
away  again.  "Some  years  later  the  coffee  plants 
grew  up  and  began  bearing.  Oodles  of  coffee 
berries.  All  that  was  required  was  to  pick  and 
sack  them  and  cart  them  out.  Then  the  income! 
Only  difficulty  with  that  little  scheme  was  that 
there  was  nobody  to  pick  and  sack.  The  farm, 
mind  you,  was  just  off  Kenia,  right  in  the  heart  of 
the  Kikuyu  country.  Every  day  down  the  track 
past  the  Braxtons'  door  minced  and  teetered 
enough  able-bodied  dandies  to  have  taken  care  of 
ten  farms  the  size  of  Braxtons'.  They  had  on 
their  best  feather — or  tripe — headdresses,  their 
best  oiled  goat-skins,  their  shiniest  brass  wire 
armlets  and  jewellery;  they  were  glistening  with 
castor  oil  and  red  paint-clay  until  they  looked  like 
bronze;  each  carried  his  spear  and  his  length  of 


SIMBA 

sugar  cane — but  there  weren't  ten  ounces  of  work 
in  the  lot.  From  their  point  of  view  why  should 
they  work?  they  had  all  they  wanted. 

"But,"  and  in  the  vehemence  of  his  contention 
Kingozi  sat  bolt  upright,  "from  the  point  of  view 
of  the  settler — the  Braxton  people — who  had  been 
lured  out  here  by  a  paternal  Government — how 
about  them?  Nobody  had  told  them  of  any 
shortage  of  labour!  Indeed  rather  a  point  had 
been  made  of  the  '  proximity  of  populous  native 
tribes.'  No  white  man  can  long  perform  violent 
physical  labour  in  that  climate.  He'd  need  help 
even  if  he  did.  The  Braxtons  made  desperate 
efforts.'  Direct  dealing  with  the  natives  was  of 
little  use.  Appeals  to  and  arguments  with 
representatives  of  Governments,  from  the  local 
D.  C.'s  up  to  His  Excellency,  brought  out  only  a 
horrified  uplifting  of  the  hands  over  the  idea  of 
'forced  labour'!" 

"Do  you  believe  in  forced  labour?"  asked  Lord 
Marshlands  quietly. 

"I  don't  know.  But  I  believe  in  consistency. 
If  this  is  a  black  man's  country,  then  we  should 
leave  it  to  the  black  man.  That's  a  perfectly 


COW    IVORY  307 

logical  view;  but  if  it  is  adopted,  then  on  what 
excuse  do  we  allow  settlers  at  all,  let  alone  try  to 
attract  them?  If  we  admit  the  white  man  to  a 
hold  at  all,  then  we  should  do  our  best  to  make  con 
ditions  liveable  and  at  the  same  time  to  educate 
the  black  from  his  savage  condition.  And  the 
first  step  toward  that  last  is  to  teach  him  the 
dignity  and  necessity  of  labour.  Of  course  he 
wouldn't  undertake  it  of  his  own  accord;  but  then 
mighty  few  children  go  to  school  of  their  own 
accord.  But  we  don't  let  children  off  from  school 
just  because  they  don't  want  to  go.  That's 
forced  labour.  When  you  come  down  to  it,  most 
labour  is  forced  by  one  thing  or  another.  But 
I'm  not  going  into  economics;  I'm  trying  to  tell 
a  story.  Point  is  that  no  government  has  a  right 
to  take  up  the  ' white  man's  burden'  without  im 
proving  the  subject  race;  and  no  government  has 
a  right  to  decoy  in  settlers  and  leave  'em  in  the 
lurch.  When  the  two  exist  side  by  side,  it's  just 
foolish. 

"  However,  there  you  are.  Braxtons  with  every 
cent  invested,  a  good  property,  and  no  means  to 
work  it.  They  managed  to  get  a  little  fly-by- 


3o8  SIMBA 

night  labour  from  time  to  time,  and  shipped  out 
a  little  coffee,  of  course;  but  they  ran  behind,  and 
they  worried  themselves  sick  over  it,  their  coffee 
bushes  deteriorated,  and  they  were  headed  straight 
for  trouble.  'Course  they  borrowed  from  that 
German  Jew  chap  in  Nairobi  as  much  as  he'd 
advance,  which  merely  got  them  in  deeper. 

"Now  enter  one  of  the  owners  of  the  buried  cow 
ivory.  Remember  I  told  you  there  was  one  on 
the  ship  going  out — I  called  him  Middleton? 
Well,  he  was  hunting  professionally  up  in  that 
Kenia  district,  saw  a  good  deal  of  the  B  rax  tons, 
and  got  interested.  Soft-hearted  sort  of  chap. 
The  elder  B  rax  ton  he  was  sorry  for,  and  all  that, 
but  young  Charley  especially  got  him.  As  things 
grew  worse  and  worse,  the  young  fellow's  spirits 
gradually  died  out.  He  was  game  all  right,  and 
whistled  and  sang  around  as  gaily  as  ever,  but  any 
one  who  knew  and  liked  him  could  see  that  the 
whimsical  upward  quirk  to  the  corners  of  his 
mouth  in  repose  was  becoming  a  wistful  downward 
quirk;  and,  I  don't  know  why  it  was,  but  that  little 
fact  was  more  pathetic,  more  harrowing — yes, 
more  heartbreaking — than  actual  starvation  and 


COW    IVORY  309 

want  would  have  been.  It  was  like  the  extinguish 
ing  of  a  brave  bright  flame." 

Kingozi  gulped  at  his  glass  of  lime  juice  and 
soda.  Lord  Marshlands  glanced  at  him  covertly, 
and  smiled  a  secret  little  smile. 

"It  struck  Middleton  that  way.  He  did  all  he 
could  for  them,  even  to  bullying  old  Kurioki  for 
men.  Kurioki  sent  down  a  few,  because  he  liked 
Middleton,  and  they  stuck  for  awhile,  but  their 
enthusiasm  died,  and  so  did  Kurioki's,  and  his  help 
proved  only  a  palliative.  Middleton  had  no 
money— what  hunter  ever  did  have?  He  offered 
them  what  he  had  saved,  when  they  all  came  to 
the  point  of  discussing  the  situation.  The  Brax- 
fons  refused.  Seton  had  good  sense;  he  pointed 
out  that  what  was  needed  was  a  round  sum  to 
carry  out  a  scheme  he  had  evolved  for  importing 
Indians.  He  had  faith  in  it,  but  he  could  get  no 
one  else  to  believe  in  it  to  the  extent  of  financing 
him.  Then  after  a  time  Middleton  told  of  this 
cache  of  cow  ivory.  He  did  not  tell  them  that  in 
doing  so  he  was  breaking  a  solemn  agreement 
with  his  three  partners  in  the  enterprise,  for  they 
had  promised  each  other  that  no  attempt  should 


3io  SIMBA 

be  made  to  remove  the  ivory  unless  all  were  con 
sulted  and  all  involved.  Middleton  was  a  man  of 
experience,  the  soul  of  honour.  I  do  not  suppose 
he  had  ever  before  broken  a  promise  in  his  life. 
In  breaking  this  one  he  sacrificed  his  self-respect 
utterly — I  believe  that's  what  we  started  to  talk 
about,  wasn't  it  ?  By  his  campfire  of  evenings  he 
used  to  hate  himself.  Probably  a  dozen  times  he 
resolved  to  throw  the  whole  matter  over,  to  bury 
himself  in  the  French  Congo.  What  were  the 
Braxtons  to  him?  Nevertheless,  preparations  went 
forward.  For  the  three  of  them  had  evolved  a 
scheme.  This,  I  repeat,  is  the  sacrifice  I  spoke  of. 
Its  magnitude  you  could  understand  only  by  under 
standing  the  sort  of  a  man  Middleton  had  been. 

The  agreement  was,  I  believe,  that  they  were 
to  unearth  Middleton's  share  of  the  cow  ivory, 
convey  it  to  the  coast,  sell  it,  and  with  the  net 
proceeds  rescue  the  coffee  plantation  with  Indian 
coolies.  Middleton  was  to  have  some  share  in  the 
farm.  Then  they  were  all  to  sail  booming  to  im 
mense  prosperity.  Personally,  I  don't  believe 
Middleton  had  any  glowing  faith  in  it  as  a  com 
mercial  venture:  his  interest  was  red  cheeked, 


COW    IVORY  311 

curly   haired,   dancing   eyed   Charley,   with   the 
mouth  whose  corners  were  becoming  wistful. 

"It  took  lots  of  talk  to  settle  the  details. 
Middleton  put  it  pretty  strong  that  their  help  in 
getting  out  the  ivory  was  worth  fifty  per  cent,  of 
its  value  to  him,  and  that  giving  him  a  share  in  the 
farm  was  almost  overdoing  it  before  the  Braxtons 
would  go  in.  As  it  was,  they  were  pathetically 
grateful.  Then  they  had  to  settle  the  small  de 
tail  of  how  to  get  the  stuff  out.  That  took  lots 
more  talk.  I  can  see  the  earnest  little  group  around 
the  board  table  under  the  peak  of  the  grass  hut, 
a  paraffin  lamp  throwing  their  shadows  against 
the  jumble  of  things  such  structures  contain — 
rifles,  saddles,  kibokos,  water  bottles — Middleton's 
boy,  Simba,  with  the  painted  filed  teeth  of  his 
tribe  showing  through  his  perpetual  half  grin, 
squatted  by  the  wattle  door,  and  outside  the  voices 
of  the  African  night.  Schemes  that  would  have 
looked  absurd  across  commonplace  mahogany 
took  on  a  semblance  of  possibility  here.  I  must 
repeat,  it  was  all  romantic,  what  with  the  cries 
of  hyenas  and  the  roar  of  lions  outside — you'll 
soon  hear  it,  Carson." 


312  SIMBA 

Kingozi  sighed,  stared  distastefully,  as  one 
new-awakened  at  the  dim,  motionless  palm  tops 
opposite,  and  resumed: 

"They  evolved  this;  and  it  was  really  not  bad. 
Middleton  picked  up  forty  donkeys.  This  number 
they  figured  would  suffice  to  pack  the  ivory  and 
necessary  provisions.  With  them  they  took 
Simba  and  four  Wakamba  known  to  Middleton. 
It  was  given  out  that  they  were  bound  on  a 
trading  expedition  to  the  Rendile.  That  was 
plausible  enough,  as  half  the  settlers  in  the  Protec 
torate  drift  into  trading,  sooner  or  later,  to  eke 
out  their  farms.  To  carry  out  the  illusion  they 
sacked  dummy  loads  of  trade  goods.  As  far  as 
Meru  boma  they  treated  themselves  to  the  luxury 
of  plenty  of  donkey  drivers;  but  from  Meru 
secrecy  was  desirable,  so  they  sacked  that  lot 
and  went  on  alone  with  their  Wakambas.  I  did 
not  tell  you  the  plan,  did  I?  It  was  to  pack  the 
donkeys  down  the  Guaso  Nyero  toward  Lorian, 
then  to  strike  boldly  across  the  desert  country  in 
an  attempt  to  hit  the  headwaters  of  a  stream  now 
called  the  McKinnon.  If  they  found  that,  they 
were  sure  of  water.  Down  the  McKinnon  they 


COW    IVORY  313 

would  trek  until  it  joined  the  Tana.  At  the  Tana 
they  intended  to  construct  canoes — dug-outs  in 
which  to  float  to  the  sea.  The  donkeys,  in  charge 
of  two  of  the  Wakamba,  would  return  leisurely 
up  the  Tana.  Once  at  the  coast  a  native  dhow 
would  sail  them  up-coast  to  the  mouth  of  the  Juba, 

whence  a  tramp  steamer 

"It  was  a  perfectly  plausible  scheme.  But  do 
you  know  its  defect?  It  had  no  margin  of  safety. 
Forty  donkeys — no  less — were  required  for  trans 
porting  the  loads.  Three  canoes  would  be  neces 
sary,  with  two  men  in  each — making  isix — and 
that  with  the  two  donkey  men  covered  the 
personnel.  If  things  worked  out  just  right,  if  there 

were  no  delays,  if  no  men  got  sick  or  were  killed 

The  Braxtons  saw  no  flaw  in  it  at  all.  Middleton, 
an  old  experienced  hand,  perceived  the  weakness 
but  found  no  way  to  remedy  it.  More  men 
meant  more  supplies,  more  donkeys,  more  danger 
of  leakage — and,  above  all,  more  money!  Al 
though  he  did  not  say  so,  Middleton  had  fairly 
pawned  his  watch  to  get  together  what  he  had. 
I  do  not  think  he  can  fairly  be  blamed.  He  used 
his  best  judgment  and  experience;  and  really 


314  SIMBA 

managed  to  spread  inadequate  resources  pretty 
thin. 

"From  Meru  boma  to  Campi  ya  Nyama  Yangu 
\s  two  days'  march.  It  was  only  the  evening  of 
the  tenth  day,  however,  that  they  were  well  away 
with  the  ivory.  The  three  whites  and  Simba  had 
dug  it  up,  carried  it  tusk  by  tusk  to  some  little 
distance,  and  then  Middleton  and  Simba  had 
skillfully  obliterated  their  trail.  Only  then  did 
Middleton  bring  up  the  other  Wakamba.  He 
thought  he  could  trust  them,  but  there  was  no 
sense  in  sharing  the  secret  with  too  many. 

"You,  Marshlands,  know  what  these  people 
were  up  against.  Carsons  cannot  appreciate  it 
until  he  has  packed  donkeys — African  donkeys. 
The  saddling,  loading,  and  driving  of  them  is  not 
only  exhausting  physical  labour,  but  is  the  most 
exasperating,  patience-breaking  devil  of  a  job — 
natives  get  on  with  it  fairly  well,  because  they 
take  cussedness  repeated  as  part  of  the  scheme 
of  the  unwise,  but  it  is  no  white  man's  work.  In 
this  instance  white  men  had  to  do  it.  Then  the 
brutes  have  to  be  herded  and  grazed  by  daylight 
and  each  night  a  dense  thorn  boma  has  to  be  cut 


COW    IVORY  315 

and  built.  Somebody  has  to  keep  up  fires!  Why? 
Because  donkeys  are  a  lion's  idea  of  caviare  to 
coffee  inclusive.  Even  full  manned  a  donkey 
safari  is  bad;  undermanned  it  is  hell. 

They  marched  two  days  down  the  Guaso  Nyero, 
and  then  filled  their  waterskins  and  struck  across. 
Nobody  in  the  party  had  ever  been  to  the  Mc- 
Kinnon,  but  Simba  had  talked  with  a  Wakamba 
hunter,  and  thought  he  knew  of  a  kopje  that 
would  give  them  a  direction.  That  Guaso  Nyero 
country,  a  hundred  yards  from  the  river,  is  dry  as 
a  bone,  grown  with  scattering  low  thorn  trees, 
covered  with  tinkling  flinty  little  stones.  As  the 
elevation  is  low,  it  is  fearfully  hot.  The  thorn 
scrub  has  plenty  of  game  at  certain  seasons  and 
too  many  rhinos  always.  It's  bad  enough  when 
you  know  just  where  you  're  going.  These  people 
had  a  cruising  radius  of  three  days — by  the  end 
of  that  time  the  donkeys  had  to  have  water. 
They  planned  to  reach  out  two  days,  and  then,  if 
unsuccessful,  to  scuttle  back  in  one  to  the  Guaso 
Nyero  and  take  a  fresh  start.  Naturally  they  left 
most  of  the  donkeys  and  the  ivory  until  they  had 
scouted  a  way.  At  the  third  trial  they  struck  the 


SIMBA 

McKinnon.  It  was  much  nearer  than  they  had 
supposed,  in  fact  only  a  few  hours'  march.  But, 
notice,  I  said  they  made  two  other  hard  trials. 
Keep]  track  of  the  cruel  work  they  were  doing, 
for  I  shall  ask  you  later  to  appreciate  its 
effects. 

"On  their  way  back  from  discovering  the  oasis 
of  thick  jungle  and  trees  in  which  the  McKinnon 
took  its  rise,  they  met  Simba  in  light  travelling 
order.  Simba  had  been  left  with  the  donkeys,  but 
had  followed  the  scouting  party  by  its  spoor. 

"'Bwana/  said  he,  'two  donkeys  are  dead,  and 
two  more  are  sick.' 

"They  hurried  back  to  camp,  full  of  foreboding. 
Middleton  caught  one  of  the  apparently  healthy 
beasts  and  pinched  the  skin  of  the  neck  between 
his  thumb  and  forefinger.  Instead  of  springing 
back  elastically,  the  skin  remained  in  a  ridge  that 
only  slowly  subsided.  Hastily  he  proceeded  from 
one  to  another  applying  this  test.  He  returned  to 
where  Seton  and  Charley  were  staring  dolefully 
at  the  dead  beasts. 

"  '  Nine  teen  of  the  creatures  are  struck  by  tse 
tse,'  he  told  them  briefly.  'We  have  seventeen 


COW    IVORY  317 

healthy  animals.  I  don't  know  where  they  ran 
into  the  fly;  if  here,  they  may  all  be  down  by 
morning.' 

"He  told  them  what  he  knew.  Four  of  the 
animals — the  two  that  were  dead  and  the  two 
Simba  had  described  as '  sick J — were  out  of  it.  The 
nineteen  fly-struck  beasts  might  last  six  hours  or 
six  months.  Sooner  or  later  they  would  surely 
die,  but  they  would  be  perfectly  strong  and 
serviceable  to  the  very  hour  of  their  doom. 

"  'The  first  time  they  get  wet  or  chilled,  they 
are  gone,'  said  Middleton. 

"They  discussed  the  situation,  and  at  length 
decided  to  push  on.  To  turn  back  now  was 
certain  ruin.  Nobody  knew  how  far  distant  was 
the  Tana,  but  it  was  hoped  that  three  weeks 
would  suffice.  The  donkeys  ought  to  last  that 
long.  They  solved  the  problem  of  the  four  lost 
beasts  by  abandoning  some  of  their  outfit  and 
several  loads  of  provisions. 

"So  they  started.  The  McKinnon  heads  in  a 
big  area  of  scrub  forest — where  incidentally  were 
all  kinds  of  elephant  sign — which  soon  thins  to  a 
narrow  jungle  strip.  On  either  hand  the  country 


318  SIMBA 

is  dry,  barren,  and  hot,  grown  sparsely  with 
mimosas.  Game  was  fairly  abundant;  which  was 
fortunate,  for  they  depended  largely  on  it.  Ordi 
narily  they  could  have  made  the  journey  in  two 
weeks;  but  actually  it  took  them  six.  This  was 
because  a  dozen  of  the  donkeys  succumbed  to  a 
stray  shower  wandering  from  Kenia — the  only 
time  it  had  rained  for  six  or  eight  months,  I 
suppose.  After  that  they  were  forced  to  relay 
back  and  forth,  a  tiresome  process,  as  each  march 
had  to  be  made  three  tunes.  However,  they 
landed  at  the  Tana  finally,  so  that  was  all  right. 
But  the  point,  the  great  point — one  you,  Carson, 
well-found,  well-fed,  well-nourished,  will  be  unable 
to  appreciate  when  you  safari  up  there — was  that 
instead  of  a  two  weeks'  picnic  they  had  undergone 
two  months  of  the  hardest  physical  labour  and 
mental  anxiety,  in  the  worst  of  climates.  Seton 
was  a  frail  brown  ghost  of  himself;  and  Middleton, 
tough  old  stager  as  he  was,  recognized  deep  within 
him  that  drained,  exhausted  feeling  that  is  the 
beginning  of  the  dread  listlessness  of  the  tropics. 
Charley's  round  cheeks  had  thinned,  but  his 
laughing  spirit  was  unquenched.  To  tell  the 


COW    IVORY  319 

truth,  he  had  been  much  spared — without  his 
knowledge — by  the  older  men. 

"  However,  there  they  were,  and  the  wide, 
brown  Tana  rolling  sullenly  by.  They  rested  two 
days,  and  then,  leaving  the  ivory,  they  marched 
down  stream  to  determine  where  were  the  last  of 
the  rapids.  Then  while  two  of  the  Wakamba, 
under  direction  of  Middleton,  chewed  away  at 
making  dug-outs,  the  rest  relayed  the  treasure  to 
the  spot. 

"The  making  of  the  canoes  was  a  terrible 
labour.  Not  every  species  of  African  tree  will 
float;  indeed,  most  go  to  the  bottom  like  lead. 
Then,  as  you  can  imagine,  it  is  desirable  to  find 
one  as  near  the  bank  as  possible.  However,  at 
last  they  were  finished;  and  the  product  floated, 
right  side  up.  The  white  men  were  even  more 
tired;  but  now,  they  told  themselves,  they  could 
rest.  The  broad  Tana  would  bear  them  to  the 
sea.  They  left  the  donkeys,  and  two  of  the  men, 
and  set  sail. 

"Followed  day  after  day  of  paddling  and  float 
ing,  sometimes  through  high  forest  growths,  some 
times  in  blasted  thorn  scrub,  always  on  the  pol- 


32o  SIMBA 

lished,  brown,  shiny,  sullen  surface  of  the  sinister 
stream,  with  the  sun  scorching  them  like  a  burning 
glass  when  it  could.  Crocodiles  slipped  from  the 
mud  banks  as  they  approached,  hippos  by  the 
score  blew  and  snorted  at  them,  going  down 
at  the  last  moment  like  submarines,  staring  at 
them  with  bulging  eyes.  At  night  they  tried  to 
get  back  to  higher  land,  away  from  the  river;  and 
at  first  in  the  upper  reaches  they  succeeded,  but 
soon  the  Tana  took  to  its  incredible  windings  in 
the  lowlands,  and  this  was  impossible.  Seton  was 
the  first  to  get  the  fever.  He  had  a  bad  go." 
Kingozi  turned  to  the  young  Englishman.  "Afri 
can  fever  hits  you  very  suddenly.  You  feel  as 
right  as  a  trivet  one  moment,  and  the  next,  plop! 
you're  down  and  off  your  head.  Seton's  go 
lasted  five  days  and  left  him  weak  as  a  cat.  They 
rigged  him  a  place  to  lie,  but  his  canoe,  short 
handed,  was  slow.  No  sooner  was  he  over  it 
than  Middleton  came  down.  Middleton  was 
pretty  well  'salted/  and  his  goes  of  fever  were 
lighter  than  those  of  a  newcomer.  The  Wakamba, 
too,  had  their  share.  Only  Simba  and  young 
Charley  escaped.  Don't  know  what  they'd  have 


COW    IVORY  321 

done  without  Charley  just  then.  He  was  as 
good  as  a  hospital  nurse.  Got  thin  under  it,  and 
looked  pretty  tired;  but  they  were  all  that. 

"The  middle  Tana  is  crooked.  On  every  point 
are  native  huts.  About  every  ten  miles  is  a 
native  sultan  of  one  sort  or  another.  Nowadays 
they  know  all  about  white  men;  but  then  they 
weren't  broken  in  to  our  noble  race,  and  they  had 
to  be  treated  diplomatically.  If  there  is  anything 
in  the  world  that  fills  the  soul  with  a  greater 
weariness  than,  after  a  hard  day  when  rest  is  the 
one  thing  that  a  man  needs,  to  be  forced  to  enter 
tain  a  lot  of  savages,  I'd  like  to  know  what  it  is! 
They  don't  need  rest,  the  beggars!  They're  cheer 
fully  willing  to  sit  up  all  night  if  it  proves  amus 
ing;  and  it  paid,  then,  to  be  amusing!  Doesn't 
sound  like  much,  does  it?  Wouldn't  have  been 
much  to  fresh,  well-fed  men.  These  people  had 
done  too  much,  had  exposed  themselves  to  too 
much  hardship  for  the  tropics,  were  too  full  of 
fever.  Their  nerves  were  stretched  to  breaking. 
But  they  had  to  keep  a  firm  hold  and  a  smiling 
face,  and  converse  elaborately  over  nothing  with 
childish,  naked  savages,  and  do  little  tricks,  and 


322  SIMBA 

— otherwise,  a  spear  in  the  back,  you  understand. 
But  that  isn't  fair.  The  natives  treated  them 
well — native  fashion.  They  came  through  alive 
and  unrobbed.  It  is  the  nature  of  the  African 
to  love  his  shauri.  But  when  they  turned  in, 
often  they  could  not  sleep,  exhausted  as  they  were. 
They  lay  awake  staring  upward,  and  the  hippos 
boomed,  and  the  dreadful,  untiring  fever-owl  ut 
tered  its  note  over  and  over  until  they  thought 
they  would  go  mad. 

"As  the  Tana  approaches  the  coast  its  over 
flow  bed  widens.  In  the  dry  season  it  sulks  slug 
gishly  through  the  most  twisted  channel  possible. 
If  it  were  any  more  crooked,  the  river  would 
not  know  which  way  to  go.  In  the  rainy  season 
it  overflows  and  forms  a  vast  sea.  There  are 
more  hippos  to  the  square  mile  down  there  than 
any  place  I  know.  , 

"They  had  anticipated  reaching  the  sea  before 
the  monsoons,  but  you  can  imagine  their  delays, 
and  the  monsoons  began  early.  It  came  on  to 
rain.  The  river  rose  in  a  night,  and  the  banks 
overflowed.  For  three  days  they  were  wet,  they 
were  unable  to  land,  they  had  no  fire,  they  ate  no 


COW_IVORY  323 

cooked  food.  Nothing  much,  plenty  of  us  have 
done  the  like;  but  I  am  wasting  a  lot  of  breath  if 
I  have  not  conveyed  to  you  what  an  accumula 
tion  of  little  things  means.  Seton  had  fallen 
into  a  black  melancholia.  He  was  very  weak 
from  his  fever,  he  could  not  eat,  he  could  not 
sleep,  he  had  been  much  in  the  sun.  Most  of  the 
time  he  plied  his  paddle  feebly  and  stared  at  the 
bottom  of  the  canoe.  The  only  time  he  showed  a 
spark  of  animation  was  when  Charley,  his  merry 
face  concealing  a  deep  anxiety,  deliberately  made 
fun.  Then  Seton's  spark  of  spirit  stirred  deep 
down  within  him,  and  he  achieved  a  slow,  tired 
smile.  Of  course  you  know  what  happened 
next." 

Lord  Marshlands  nodded. 

"I've  seen  'em  like  that — and  so  had  Middle- 
ton,  I  fancy." 

"You  must  believe  me,  Middleton  thoroughly 
realized.  He  scarcely  slept;  but  he  could  not 
achieve  the  impossible.  The  shot  waked  him 
from  a  sound  sleep,  but  he  was  on  his  feet  before 
the  report  had  died.  The  men  knew,  too.  They 
were  already  squatted  close  about  their  little 


324  SIMBA 

fire,  chattering  together,  and  glancing  toward  the 
dim,  huddled  outline  on  the  white  man's  bed. 
Only  Charley,  who  as  usual  had  slept  somewhat 
apart,  was  at  first  undisturbed.  After  a  moment 
he  raised  himself  sleepily  on  his  elbow  and  asked 
what  was  the  row. 

"'Shot  at  a  hyena/  Middleton  told  him  briefly. 

"  Satisfied  with  this  he  fell  back  asleep. 

"Middleton  had  until  morning  to  figure  on 
meeting  the  situation.  He  sat  staring  into  the 
fire.  The  hippos  were  booming,  and  the  moon 
was  striking  dimly  through  a  mist.  It  was  a 
disagreeable,  almost  an  impossible,  task  this — 
breaking  the  news — he  realized  fully  that  he  should 
give  his  mind  to  it.  Strangely  enough,  for  the 
moment  he  could  not  do  so.  He  thought  of 
all  kinds  of  trivial  things  that  circled  widely, 
ever  drawing  toward  a  centre,  until  he  was  brood 
ing  sadly  on  that  most  awful  of  messages  Africa 
tells — the  shortness  of  time,  the  flickering  pas 
sage  of  years,  how  quickly  it  all — hardship,  toil, 
thirst,  disease  that  at  the  time  seemed  inescap 
able  and  interminable — becomes  a  thing  of  yes 
terday.  And  in  that  light  for  the  moment  he 


COW    IVORY  325 

saw  the  present  crisis,  the  camp  by  the  sullen, 
eternal  river  shrouded  in  the  mists  of  the  moon, 
and  the  miasma  became  as  small  as  a  pin-point. 

"'This,  too,  will  pass,'  he  muttered  to  himself 
out  of  the  only  comforting  philosophy  Africa 
leaves  her  sons.  His  head  suddenly  blew  to  vast 
dimensions 

"The  next  thing  he  saw  was  a  canopy  of  leaves 
close  over  his  head.  The  shadow  lay  dense  be 
neath  it.  He  heard  the  gurgle  of  waters  and  felt 
a  slight,  unstable  lurch,  so  he  knew  he  was  in  a 
canoe.  Before  him,  wielding  a  paddle,  he  rec 
ognized  the  slight  form  of  Charley.  Behind  him 
he  heard  the  steady  swishing  of  another  paddle. 

"After  a  few  moments  he  had  gathered  his 
faculties. 

"  '  Charley/  he  called  huskily. 

"The boy  turned.  Middleton  was  choked  into 
silence  at  his  appearance.  The  roundness,  the 
colour  of  his  cheeks  was  gone.  His  eyes  were 
sunken  in  their  sockets;  his  lips  were  parted  over 
his  teeth.  In  his  weakened  state  Middleton  re 
ceived  the  shock  as  a  man  receives  a  blow  in  the 
chest.  But  he  was  an  old  Afrikander,  accustomed 


326  SIMBA 

to  an  iron  discipline  and  use  of  his  faculties  in 
circumstances  and  under  conditions  where  an 
other  would  have  considered  himself  too  ill  to 
move. 

"  '  Where  are  we? '  he  asked. 

"'  On  the  river.' 

" '  How  long  have  I  been  sick? ' 

"'  Six  days.' 

"Middleton  struggled  to  a  sitting  position. 
The  river  was  empty  except  for  themselves;  and 
he  noticed  that  the  canoe  was  riding  high  and 
light. 

"' Where  are  the  others?'  he  asked. 

"'The  Wakamba  deserted— all  except  Simba/ 
Charley  told  him  in  a  hard,  level  voice.  '  We  had 
to  abandon  the  other  two  canoes.' 

"Middleton  digested  this  for  some  time. 

"'And  the  ivory?'  he  inquired  at  length. 

"'Is  buried  back  there/  said  Charley  still  in  a 
hard  voice — 'with  him/  he  added  under  his 
breath  with  infinite  tenderness. 

"They  journeyed  down  the  river.  Middleton 
now  realized  that  his  illness  had  been  no  mere 
jungle  fever;  but  that  he  had  touched  the  edges 


COW    IVORY  327 

of  the  dreaded  and  fatal  blackwater.  He  was 
very  weak.  Day  after  day  he  lay  on  his  back; 
and  he  had  full  leisure  to  contemplate  the  wonder 
of  Charley.  He  pictured  the  dreadful  moment  of 
discovery,  alone  save  for  old  Simba  and  a  delirious 
man.  And  from  that  starting  point  his  listless 
mind  went  back  foot  by  foot,  day  by  day,  to 
Meru  boma;  and  because  he  was  very  weak  and 
very  tired,  the  tremendous  weariness  of  it  filled 
his  soul  to  the  lip.  Beneath  it  he  lay  inert,  as  a 
mummied  king  might  lie  beneath  the  weight  of  a 
thousand  years.  And  he  came  to  look  on  Charley 
with  a  sort  of  awe,  as  a  bright  and  shining  spirit 
of  courage  that  could  not  be  crushed.  The  mere 
contemplation  of  the  effort  needed  to  buckle  his 
belt  filled  Middleton  with  a  sick,  dead  disgust. 
Yet  Charley  paddled,  and  cooked,  and  nursed 
him,  and  carried  on  long,  difficult  negotiations 
with  savages — and  all  the  time  he  was  bearing 
the  dead  weight  of  those  months  of  toil  and  the 
living  horror  of  that  discovery  at  dawn. 

"But  the  weakness  began  to  ebb.  Middleton 
recommenced,  feebly,  to  assume  his  hold  on  life 
by  doing — little  things,  slowly,  one  at  a  time. 


328  SIMBA 

And  then,  with  new  strength,  came  a  great,  un 
spoken  affection  and  tenderness  for  this  spirit  that 
had  refused  to  yield. 

"About  four  o'clock  one  afternoon  they 
rounded  one  of  the  numberless  bends  beneath  the 
cut  banks  of  the  river  and  saw  the  sea.  Charley 
stiffened  in  his  place,  then  with  a  queer  cry  pitched 
flat  forward  on  his  face. 

"Simba  carried  him  ashore  and  laid  him  under 
a  cocoanut  tree,  running  immediately  to  the  river 
for  water.  Middleton  tore  apart  the  neckband  of 
Charley's  shirt  and  stooped  to  listen  at  the  heart. 
During  an  instant  he  knelt,  staring  wildly.  Then, 
as  he  heard  Simba's  returning  footsteps,  he  hastily 
drew  the  shirt  together  again.  For  little  Charley, 
Charley  of  the  soft  cheeks,  the  dancing  eyes,  the 
curling  hair,  the  mouth  with  the  corners  that 
quirked  up,  Charley  of  the  indomitable  spirit — 
was  a  girl!" 

Kingozi's  bold  eyes  were  staring  straight  before 
liim,  and  they  were  misted  with  tears.  He  gulped 
quite  frankly. 

"That's  about  all  there  is  to  that  yarn,"  he  said 
gruffly  after  a  moment.  "General  disaster  all 


COW    IVORY  329 

'round.  Farm  mortgaged,  every  cent  spent, 
ivory  still  buried,  brother  dead.  Nice  cheerful 
mess.  Queer  thing  about  it  all  was  that  the  girl, 
just  as  soon  as  she  was  found  out,  became  all 
girl.  See  what  I  mean?  Up  to  that  time  she 
had  been  doing  two  men's  work,  and  running  the 
whole  show.  Now  she  just  collapsed.  Didn't 
know  what  to  do  next,  or  where  to  turn.  Middle- 
ton  knew  all  right. 

"  'The  Biship  of  Zanzibar  is  a  friend  of  mine,' 
said  he  decidedly.  'We're  going  to  get  married.' 

"She  looked  him  in  the  eyes.  " 

"  'You  are  a  brave  and  true  man, '  she  said,  Ibut 
you  do  not  mean  that  as  I  would  have  you  mean 
it.' 

"Middleton  swore  that  he  did,  and  he  believed 
it,  but  she  persisted,  and  long  afterward  Middleton 
knew  that  she  was  right.  There  was  nothing 
more  to  be  said.  They  got  into  their  canoe  again 
and  proceeded  to  the  mouth  of  the  river.  There 
they  found  a  green  tent  awaiting  them.  An 
officer  of  the  E.  A.  P.  called  them  ashore.  He 
peered  into  the  canoe. 

"'Where's  your  ivory?'  he  asked. 


330  SIMBA 

"  But Middleton  was  a  hundred  percent. stronger 
than  he  had  been  the  day  before. 

"  'What  ivory? '  he  snapped  back.  f  I  want  food 
and  transportation  for  myself  and  this  young  lady, 
here. ' 

"' Young  lady!'  says  the  officer.  He  looked 
her  over,  and  he  looked  Middleton  over,  and 
Simba,  and  their  outfit.  That  officer  was  no  fool, 
or  he  wouldn't  be  in  the  E.  A.  P.;  he  could  add  up 
a  simple  sum.  He  grinned  a  little  under  his 
moustache.  'And  no  ivory,'  he  went  on.  'Well, 
I  was  sent  down  to  arrest  you  for  smuggling  out 
cow  ivory,  Middleton,  but  I  fancy  there's  some 
mistake. ' 

"That's  all,  except  that  Middleton  duly  re 
pented  of  his  disloyalty  to  his  partners,  and  con 
fessed  everything,  ate  humble  pie,  and  got  himself 
forgiven.  Fact  remains  that  he  sacrificed  his 
word  and  honour  and  self-respect.  And  really 
at  heart  didn't  give  a  damn.  It's  always  that 
way.  And  the  ivory  is  all  here  yet,  underground; 
three  quarters  of  it  near  the  Guaso  Nyero;  the 
other  quarter,  guarded  by  a  dead  man's  bones,  on 
the  lower  Tana.  As  I  remarked,  Carson,  if  you 


COW    IVORY  331 

have  any  feasible  schemes  let  me  know.  Well, 
it's  getting  late,  and  the  night  wind  is  coming  to 
cool  things  off.  Don't  forget  you're  coming  over 
to  tiffin  with  me  to-morrow." 

"But  the  girl?"  cried  Carson. 

"Oh,  she  married  the  E.  A.  P.  officer,"  replied 
Kingozi.  "That  worry  came  out  all  right." 

He  heaved  his  great  body  from  the  teak-wood 
lazy  chair  and  stood  upright,  stretching  his 
muscles  and  looking  blankly  off  into  the  darkness. 
Suddenly,  without  another  word,  he  stalked  out, 
followed  by  Simba  as  by  his  shadow.  For  a  time 
neither  of  the  other  men  stirred.  The  night  wind 
from  the  Indian  Ocean  was  just  beginning  to 
rustle  the  bamboo  curtains,  and  with  it  came  the 
first  breath  of  the  coolness  that  permitted  sleep. 

"By  Jove!"  murmured  Carson  at  last;  and  fell 
again  into  ruminative  contemplation  of  Kingozi 's 
tale.  A  thought  struck  him.  "  Look  here,  Marsh 
lands,"  he  said.  "Do  you  believe  all  that?  It's 
a  topping  yarn,  of  course,  but  how  could  Culbert- 
son  know  all  that  that  Johnny,  Middleton,  thought 
and  felt  and  all  that?  Rum,  I  call  it!" 

Lord  Marshlands  smiled  quietly. 


332  SIMBA 

"Didn't  you  gather  that  Culbertson  was  telling 
his  own  story?"  he  asked. 

Young  Carson  contemplated  this  idea. 

"By  Jove!"  he  exclaimed.  Then  after  a 
moment:  "I  wonder  he  didn't  marry  that  girl. 
She  sounded  ripping!" 

Marshlands  shook  his  head. 

"No  man  knows  the  mysteries  of  Africa;  and 
no  man  yet  has  ever  guessed  the  secrets  of  Kin- 
gozi's  heart,"  he  said. 

THE   END 


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